


Mr Jefferson is coming home

by LancelotOfTheRevolutionarySet



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton Being an Asshole, American Revolution, Angst, Cabinet Meetings (Hamilton), Canon Era, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Founding Fathers (Hamilton), Hamilton Lyrics, M/M, Monticello (Hamilton), Politics, Romantic Fluff, Slow Romance, Thomas Jefferson Being Fabulous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 72,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27478336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LancelotOfTheRevolutionarySet/pseuds/LancelotOfTheRevolutionarySet
Summary: Jefferson returns from France and meets Hamilton for the first time. It's hatred at first sight, but will it change into something else? Slow romance, the characters grow along with the story. Both Thomas and Alexander POV. Completed.***And then it happened. Jefferson looked away from Burr for just a second and fixed his eyes on Alexander's. Alex's heart stopped and he felt his blood running cold into his veins - what should he do? Should he nonchalantly walk out of this damned alley, or run away, or what? He was trying to think fast, but in the end he just stayed there, frozen on his spot by Jefferson's smug stare. For what it seemed to be a lifetime, Thomas's brown eyes held his gaze, tying Alexander's blue wide eyes to his, reading his very soul like an open book. Then he winked and turned to Burr again, acting as if nothing had happened. Alex abruptly retreated into the deep shadows of the alley, breathing hard and sweating as if he had just had an epiphany. Five seconds. Only five insignificant seconds and his world had been turned upside down.***
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson
Comments: 162
Kudos: 104





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [readingandy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/readingandy/gifts).



> This is my very first fanfic, but I'm doing my best. Be kind!

“Home sweet home,” Thomas thought while finally stepping on American soil again.

He’d been in France for years and had grew quite used to his routine in Paris, but time had come for him to return to Monticello – home, at last. It was 1789, France was following them to revolution, and America was finally free from King George’s tyranny.

As soon as he stepped on the dock, the tall man firmly walked through the big crowd that had gathered in the harbour to welcome him, shaking some hands on his way and quickly withdrawing into his carriage, distancing himself from the cheering crowd with a sigh of relief. He smiled and waved his gloved hand from inside the coach, while some servants rushed to bring his luggage in; in less than twenty minutes, off he went. Thomas's smile instantly relaxed - he didn't really like to be the focus of everyone's attention - and watched the beautiful landscape rolling by right out of his carriage window, recollecting all the sweet memories of his life in Virginia. 

His six-weeks journey on a ship had been a real torture – Thomas was an intellectual, but also a man of action and, above all, a man who enjoyed social relations. After spending all these weeks reading and writing, he couldn’t wait to see his beautiful mansion, to hug all his old friends – he missed James so much – and meet new people. He’d worked as the US ambassador in France for five years, and had become a very good friend with Marquis Gilbert de Lafayette; the man was planning a revolution in France, first-handed influenced by the victory of the former American colonies against Great Britain. If they won – he claimed with a passion that Thomas had always respected and treasured – France would also become a Republic at last.

He was always talking about his revolutionary companions, with whom he’d spent the years of his youth, a time full of ideals and dreams of freedom. Mulligan, Laurens and, of course, Hamilton. That name had caught Thomas’s attention from the first time he’d heart it – a bastard son of a divorced woman from the Caribbean, who had become Washington’s right-hand man and, according to the latest news, the first Secretary of Treasury of the US. He still remembered the night when Gilbert first talked about him: he was telling Thomas of the Battle of Brandywine, when he’d been shot in the leg and had been forced to stay in bed for two full months to recover. He said he’d felt as if he was going crazy, waiting alone in a room while all his fellow soldiers were fighting without him; until one morning a short-tempered boy – whose eyes were of the most beautiful blue he’d ever seen – had burst into his room, followed by a very quiet man with a smiling freckled face. They’d introduced themselves as his new roommates, and from that moment on they’d also became his acquired brothers. Gilbert had always said that he’d instantly fallen in love with Hamilton, but that Alexander’s affections laid elsewhere – probably referring to Elizabeth Schuyler, Thomas had concluded.

It would be nice to finally meet some of them. But family first. Thomas felt a well-known pang of pain at the thought of his former wife, Martha, who’d died two years before his departure. He’d been so depressed that the Congress had sent him to France to divert him from his pain to something more profitable – but now, while coming back to Monticello, Martha’s memory hurt like an open wound once more. No doubt he’d had a lot of fun in France, especially with all the French ladies – and, sometimes, gentlemen – and Sally was there too, but he’d never really moved on after the death of his one and only love.

Thomas waved those painful thoughts away with a harsh gesture of the hand; he didn’t have time for _love_ , he was a man of reason – for heaven’s sake! He would focus on work again... and maybe relax a little after his long journey. His mind was already at work: he was dreaming about all the parties he could threw in Monticello, designing a new style for his beautiful house’s interiors, and scheduling a plan to plant all the different specimen of vegetables he’d found in Europe, not to talk about all the delicious dished he absolutely wanted Madison to try. However, as soon as he set foot in his study and looked at his desk, all his plans were swiped away by a letter from George Washington – nay, from the President – that urged him to join the Cabinet. It wasn’t a shock really, but Thomas wasn’t expecting work to call so soon. Two days later, after a good sleep and a brief visit to Martha’s grave, he packed some of his belongings and got in his carriage, on the road once more, heading for New York.

While watching his beloved Monticello becoming smaller and smaller, Thomas thought about Gilbert’s farewell in Bordeaux, right before he boarded on his ship.

“You still have time to change your mind and stay,” the Frenchman had repeated for the third time in the same hour.

“You won’t persuade me, my dear Gilbert, I have to go,” Thomas had answered with a smile.

“Why are you so willing to leave me?”

“You should understand it more than anyone else – I’m homesick. You’ve always told me how you missed home when you were fighting the revolution, you know how it feels like.”

“But you have nothing there waiting for you – your family is here, your friends are here, you would do a great job to support our international relationships if you stayed, and the revolution is coming –

“I’ll leave the revolution to you, Gil, you know I’m not a soldier and my work here is done. I have much more to offer to my nation, and I’m eager to defend our democracy now that we’re finally free – I’ve heard that Hamilton is already giving problems to Congress with his crazy ideas.”

“That’s his specialty,” Gilbert had giggled.

“ _Je ne peux pas rester, mon cher Gilbert. Mais tu me manqueras terriblement._ ”

“ _Je sais, mon amour. Peu importe ce qui vous rappelle, j’espère que cela vous apportera le bonheur que vous méritez_ ,” he’d pressed a soft kiss on both Thomas’s cheeks, lingering a second too long and filling his lungs with Thomas’s perfume before going away.

Wondering about his friend’s words, Thomas softly touched his cheek where Gilbert had last kissed him, asking himself what was really the reason why he’d returned. Whatever it was, it was probably waiting him in New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Je ne peux pas rester, mon cher Gilbert. Mais tu me manqueras terriblement.” = "I can’t stay, my dear Gilbert. But I’ll miss you terribly."  
> “Je sais, mon amour. Peu importe ce qui vous rappelle, j’espère que cela vous apportera le bonheur que vous méritez.” = "I know, my love. Whatever is calling you back, I hope it’ll bring you the happiness you deserve."
> 
> If you’re interested to know more about Sally’s history, you can start your search from here: https://www.monticello.org/thomas-jefferson/jefferson-slavery/thomas-jefferson-and-sally-hemings-a-brief-account/
> 
> Despite claiming that “all men are created equal”, Thomas Jefferson was a slave owner and suspected that black people to be inferior: “Comparing them by their faculties of memory, reason, and imagination, it appears to me, that in memory they are equal to the whites; in reason much inferior” (Notes on the State of Virginia, 1785). However, after his wife’s death, he started an affair with one of his slaves, Sally Hemings, who is believed to be Martha’s half-sister, and had six children with her. While in Paris, Sally was free (I think slavery was sort of abolished in France during the revolution) and worked as a domestic servant; before returning to Monticello, she negotiated with Jefferson, asking for some privileges and freedom for their future children.


	2. Chapter 2

Alex was nervous that morning. It was only 11 a.m. and he had already received a note from Washington, who’d asked him to come over to meet the new Secretary of State. He knew Jefferson of course – everyone knew him – but he’d never actually talked with the guy. And he wasn’t really interested in doing so. But since the President asked, and Eliza was particularly beautiful that day, he decided to take his wife to the Washingtons’ for dinner and behave nicely for once. Or, at least, that was his intention before meeting the worst motherfucker ever. That evening, Alexander found himself arguing with Jefferson over every single topic. Every. Single. One. After the first five minutes of discussion, Eliza shot a quick desperate glance at her husband and, knowing it would be a long night, went to chat with Martha Washington.

“We need the banks,” Alex was explaining to Burr after a couple of drinks, “in order to make the market competitive –

“What a nonsense!” Jefferson’s voice abruptly interrupted his speech.

Alexander turned towards him, seeing red already. Why was his voice so hideous to his ears? His sight had disgusted Alex from the very first moment, and it seemed like the feeling was widely shared by Jefferson too.

“Excuse me?” he spat, shooting a daring look to the taller man.

Jefferson, who’d been talking and laughing until that moment with some other members of the cabinet, James Madison among them, suddenly raised an arrogant eyebrow at Alexander’s countenance. He looked down on him with his high-and-mighty gaze and sipped his red wine before answering.

“Well, the query is very simple, Mr Hamilton,” he put on an arrogant smile, “why, in God’s name, should Virginians pay for your taxes? Our debs are already paid, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, it’s very simple to have your debts paid when you don’t have to pay for labour, right Jefferson?” Alex almost shouted the words, completely out of himself. He had just realized that he was talking with a slave-owner, and that simple thought made him shake with rage. He’d grown up in a small island in the Caribbean where slaves were killed and sold like animals – no, they were actually treated even worse than animals. It was inhumane. He’d always hated people like Jefferson. In that moment, Alex couldn’t help but think of John – he’d died while trying to free black slaves and make them join the revolution.

Fortunately, Burr decided to try and calm them down and so Alexander was free to redirect all his fury towards him for the next several minutes, while Jefferson was dragged away by Madison.

“That cocky bastard,” Alexander growled to Burr, who muttered in agreement – well, he couldn’t expect more than that from Burr, he’d never really expressed his opinion, “I can’t believe I’ll have to deal with him for the next four years.”

“Maybe if you stopped yelling for a while, you would find something more beyond the surface,” Burr cast him his wise-old-man look that always made Alexander wonder how old was that man really.

“I don’t need this shit Burr,” he chuckled when his friend rolled his eyes in exasperation, “I’m a politic, Aaron, not a nun – I don’t fucking care to unveil Jefferson’s hidden side. He’s a dumb southern slave owner who has done nothing to help our revolution except for writing a declaration he doesn’t even believe in.”

Burr gave up and went back to Theodosia, while Alexander grabbed a glass of wine and pretended to listen to John Adams while taking a better look at Jefferson, now that he was merrily blabbering with Madison. He was not ugly – in fact, he was quite charming, with his puffy hair that wiggled with his head’s every movement and his broad shoulders. Damn it, the man was the devil himself, of course he had to be tempting; Alexander noticed that, now that he was alone with Madison, his dark brown eyes seemed softer and his smile had grown more relaxed and wide on his face, making him look even more beautiful. Fuck.

“And that’s why you should never trust an Indian,” Adams ended his apparently-super-funny story and a few people laughed, while others looked visibly embarrassed at the vice president.

“You’re wrong and your story sucked,” Alexander dropped his comment nonchalantly and distanced himself from Adams’s nonsense to join his lovely wife once more.

On their way home, Eliza happily chatted about Martha’s invitation for next week’s picnic at her cousin’s country house, and Alexander let her cheerful voice calm his anger, listening to his wife talking about sandwiches, snacks and cakes.

That night, he couldn’t sleep. He started thinking about his dear John again, about how things would have been different if he hadn’t died on that battlefield. Eventually, as soon as the sun rose, he had to go out in the garden to breathe – and he cried all the tears that his beloved John so deserved.

* * *

Thomas was bewildered. He wasn’t expecting Hamilton to be such a pain in the ass. His friend Lafayette had always told him marvellous things about that guy, so he had great expectations – perhaps too great for that angry little man that had barked at him for the whole night. One thing was true though: he was quite handsome. He was slightly shorter than Thomas, thin but sturdy; his black hair was tied back in a low ponytail, and his eyes were really one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen – intelligent and passionate at the same time, blue iris that lightened slightly around the pupil and that seemed to melt and burn according to Hamilton’s every fit of passion. That night, while pretending he wasn’t looking, Thomas had caught Hamilton studying his shape attentively with his piercing look. He had to admit he’d remained speechless when they’d finally shook their hands and looked each other in the eyes; but the spell had only lasted half a second – when Hamilton had opened his mouth, Thomas admiration had suddenly vanished into thin air. How dared he talk to him like that? Spitting all that nonsense about the banks and then accusing him of slavery!

‘Well, he’s never gonna have those damned banks anyway,’ Thomas resolved, ‘not over my dead body.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I think of them, I obviously think of Lin and Daveed (you'll sense my love for him in every description of Thomas aaaaaargh); but I'll describe Alexander's eyes as blue, because - according to his contemporaries - they were actually something. A Federalist called Fisher Ames wrote that Alexander's eyes were “of a deep azure, eminently beautiful”, and similar comments on his violet-blue eyes had been made by others. Anyway, I love Lin but Hamilton was really hot with his red Scottish hair and those eyes. GOSH.  
> https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/journal-of-american-studies/article/erotic-charisma-of-alexander-hamilton/BC911E604C376A4F3CCBFB6F3731B3A0


	3. Chapter 3

George Washington was in his office, looking at the papers on his desk with a concerned stare. "This would not be easy to discuss in the next Cabinet meeting," he thought, "but it had to be done eventually". He sighed and went to the window. Spring was starting to fade into a mild summer, and the trees were full of colourful blossoms. He gazed at the people that walked down the street, without really seeing them, thinking about his early choices as a President. He had selected who he considered to be the most suitable people for the job, and now they were already divided into a two-party system. From the moment Hamilton had started talking about the banks, Jefferson and Madison had opposed to the idea – not that they agreed on anything else anyway. But now Washington's task was to make the whole thing work, and he would be successful, one way or another. He walked back to his desk and glanced at the papers again. Alexander had been working on the project for the last two months, and now he was really close to hand it in for Congressional approval. It would all be discussed the following week, at the Cabinet meeting.

"Well," Washington pondered, "I'll better head home and spend some time with Martha. I still have a couple of days of calm before the storm."

* * *

Two-party system. Alexander couldn't believe that. After defending the Constitution together, he thought that Madison and him were on the same page. He fuckin' thought the man had the good sense to consider the reality of their nation's future – but he was wrong, and he knew exactly whose fault was it. Jefferson. That idealistic idiot.

"Alexander, are you even listening?" Eliza's voice dragged him back to reality.

"I'm sorry, what?" Alex blinked a couple of times, while trying to remember what was the topic of the conversation – something like a vacation, perhaps.

Eliza sighed and repeated herself once more, "My father has invited us to spend the summer with him and I was thinking about asking Angelica to join us… It's been so long since her last visit, what do you think?"

"That sounds wonderful, my love" Alex replied with a smile. He knew that Eliza was very fond of her sister, they had been inseparable for their whole life, until the latter had to move to London with her husband. It would be nice for everyone to have Angelica around.

Eliza beamed back, her beautiful pale face gleaming in the sunlight. It was Sunday and they were walking around the park – another one of Eliza's attempts to distract him from work. Alex had to admit that it was actually helping: he had passed the last months locked in his room, drawing up his plan for a National Bank. And, before that, he had spent months writing down the Federalist Papers. He hardly remembered how was it to simply enjoy the sunlight and relax. This was actually nice.

Looking at his wife's satisfied face – she had actually succeeded in diverting his attention towards more pleasurable topics – he couldn't help but laugh. God, he loved her so much.

"Mr Hamilton, it's nice to see you without your usual frown on," Mr Madison greeted them, lightly bowing towards Eliza.

Alexander smile faded at once. He turned to his nemeses with a hard look on his face.

"Mr Madison, that's an odd choice of words, since I'd rather say it's never nice to see you. Mr Jefferson –" he added coolly, "it's always horrible to see you as well"

Jefferson looked at him with a scornful glance and, ignoring his words, turned to Eliza with a delighted smile.

"Mrs Hamilton, what a pleasure to see you again," he winked and Eliza blushed slightly.

"What do you want?" Alexander was not happy at all about how the things were going, what did Jefferson think he was doing, flirting with his wife?

"Oh nothing," Madison replied quickly, casting a severe glance at Jefferson, "we just wanted to wish you good luck for tomorrow's meeting"

"Aw, that's so kind of you," mocked Alexander, "the President's on my side, and there's nothing you two jerks can actually do to stop me"

"We'll see," Madison's response was sober as usual. His decorum had always been something that made Hamilton feel a bit ashamed of his short temper. On the other hand, he couldn't willingly miss the possibility to insult Jefferson, and the thought made him feel better again. Madison bowed once more and went away, while Jefferson was still grinning.

"See you at the meeting then," he waved, "Mrs Hamilton, have a wonderful day"

"I hope you get hit by a carriage," Alexander growled back, while Eliza stared at them worried.

Thomas laughed and, swinging his fancy walking stick back and forward, followed Madison down the street.


	4. Chapter 4

“The issue on the table,” President Washington introduced the topic to the Cabinet members, “Secretary Hamilton’s plan to assume state debt and establish a national bank. Secretary Jefferson,” he added then, turning to the Secretary of State, “you have the floor, sir.”

Jefferson cleared his throat and then stood up, charming everyone in the room with one of his bright smiles.

‘Stupid show-off’ Hamilton thought, staring at those beautiful lips one second too much. His being so captivating only made him angrier.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness,” Jefferson quoted from his Declaration of Independence, “with these words we clarified to England, and to every other country, that we would never again be subjugate by their oppressive governments. Well, now we cannot allow our own government to assume the whole state’s debt, if we don’t want to repeat the same mistake of the said countries! We –

“We will never be a country, you moron, if we don’t manage our economic crisis first! We need to be aggressive and competitive; we need a strong, central government to control the banks!”

Jefferson placed his hands on his heart and opened his eyes wide, pretending to be hurt by Hamilton’s words, “Darling, we can all already see who will benefit from this. Place your bets!” he laughed, looking at the other Cabinet members, “this financial plan is unconstitutional and it only has two objects: to exclude popular understanding and inquiry, while working as a machine for the corruption of the legislature.”

He sat down again, and a general murmur of agreement surrounded his figure.

“That's right,” someone said, “think about the South, their economy is agricultural, there will be no benefit for them!”

Madison smiled.

“Gentlemen, we have acquired almost 80 million in debts. We must establish the banks; it cannot be considered as unconstitutional when it’s the only way to prevent the crumble of our own nation,” and then, looking Jefferson straight in the eyes, he added, “who talks most about freedom and equality? Is it not those who hold the bill of rights in one hand and a whip for affrighted slaves in the other?”

Jefferson felt the blood boiling in his veins. This little bastard was still talking about slavery, while promoting a plan that would leave millions of people in misery. He ground his teeth and stood up, towering above Hamilton with a threatening look. Alexander was not unfamiliar with physical confrontation; first of all, he had fought in a goddamn war, and, most importantly, he had the bad habit of making people angry. He had already taken part in several duels too. He looked at Jefferson: his cocky smile was gone. He was actually quite intimidating, with his commanding figure and his fierce look. And hot. ‘What?’ Alexander pushed the thought away, while rising his fists to confront Jefferson, ‘why would I think such a senseless thing?!’

“Enough!” Washington roared, “gentlemen, calm yourself now. Hamilton,” he cast a harsh look at him, “a word.”

“You don’t have the votes,” Madison muttered when Hamilton walked pass him. Once at the door, Alex heard Jefferson's annoying chuckling and, slamming the door, he angrily stamped towards Washington’s office.

“Are you going to pull yourself together?” Washington looked concerned – the national debt was bad, they didn’t have time to quarrel over it.

“I’m sorry, but we can’t let the South decide for the wealth of the whole Nation,” Alexander replied sharply, “We need to push forward with the plan, with or without congressional approval”

“No way,” the President shook his head, “you need the votes. Find a compromise, Alexander, or they’ll call for your removal.”

* * *

Alexander bade him goodbye and strode out on the street. He didn’t know what to do – he didn’t feel like going home to Eliza, she was still thrilled about their summer plans and he wanted to stay alone and grumpy. He searched his pockets and pulled out a small piece of half-crumpled paper. Alex read the letter in silence, and then whispered the final words to himself:

‘While circumstances place so great a distance between us, I entreat you not to withdraw the consolation of your letters. You know the unalterable sentiments of your affectionate Laurens.”

Alexander held the letter to his chest, the usual feeling of despair invading his whole body. John would have known how to cheer him, he always knew how to make him laugh. Like that time when the Congress hadn’t sent the provisions they had been asking for weeks – he had been so angry and upset, but John had held him tight the whole night, kissing every inch of his face and whispering kind and loving words to his ear. But then he had been sent to South Carolina, and he’d never returned.

Tears were streaming on his face, when a voice interrupted his sad train of thoughts.

“Hamilton, why are you still – oh my,” Jefferson was taken aback by what he saw, “Alexander, are you all right?”

Alexander seemed to suddenly realize that he was still standing in the middle of the street. For a moment, he faced Jefferson with a lost look – Thomas only needed half a second to drown into his eyes, God they were terribly beautiful – and then turned around and started marching away from him. Thomas easily reached him in three strides, he was taller than Hamilton and his long legs didn’t have any problem in keeping the shorter man’s pace.

“Hey,” he put his hand on Hamilton’s shoulder –

“Don’t touch me!” Alex hissed, a look of pure hatred on his face, “what do you want, Jefferson? Because if you want to reassume the fight, I’m ready.”

“What is your problem?” Thomas was shocked, “I just wanted to help, you idiot!”

“Well you can’t! First of all, you’re a fucking asshole, and then you wouldn’t understand, you’ve never lost anyone!” Alex turned and walked away – but not before seeing Thomas’s grieved face.

Shit, he’d done it again, talking too hastily without thinking. Well, it was too late now to take his words back and he didn’t want Jefferson see him in his state. So he kept walking until he reached the corner of the street, where he glanced back. Jefferson’s magenta figure was walking away, his head high as usual. Alexander turned around the corner and started running home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've put some sentences really used by Jefferson and Hamilton in their lives, if you're interested, these are the links:
> 
> Declaration of Independence: https://www.archives.gov/founding-docs/declaration-transcript [We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness]
> 
> Jefferson on Hamilton's financial plan: https://archive.org/details/bub_gb_MAY7sx5IBloC/page/n34/mode/2up [It had two objects; 1st, like a puzzle, to exclude popular understanding and inquiry; 2nd, as a machine for the corruption of the legislature]
> 
> Hamilton on slavery: https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/7675244-who-talks-most-about-freedom-and-equality-is-it-not [Who talks most about freedom and equality? Is it not those who hold the bill of rights in one hand and a whip for affrighted slaves in the other?]
> 
> Laurens's letter to Hamilton: https://founders.archives.gov/?q=laurens%20Author%3A%22Laurens%2C%20John%22%20Recipient%3A%22Hamilton%2C%20Alexander%22&s=1111311111&r=9 [While circumstances place so great a distance between us, I entreat you not to withdraw the consolation of your letters. You know the unalterable sentiments of your affectionate Laurens]


	5. Chapter 5

A few mornings later, Alexander was woken up by his wife’s high-pitched voice, which happily announced him that Angelica had accepted their invitation and had sent a note to inform them that she was on her way and would arrive for the summer. Eliza was so excited she almost started to jump on their bed. Alexander laughed heartily at the sight, even if he would have loved to sleep a bit longer – he was having trouble sleeping since the last Cabinet meeting, and he blamed the Democratic-Republicans for it. If it wasn’t for their stubbornness not to accept his financial proposal, he wouldn’t be risking his job for it! Even if… he tried to remember his last dream: two dark eyes that looked sadly at him from a distance suddenly appeared in his memories, and he blushed. No, it was impossible. He couldn’t be dreaming of that moron, right? He shook his head to send all those stupid thoughts away – that wasn’t possible, he couldn’t possibly feel guilty, he hated the guy. As far as he was concerned, the more Jefferson was unhappy, the better; that would mean less trouble at work for Hamilton.

He got up unwillingly and got dressed, wearing one of his favourite waistcoats, the bright green one. He looked at the mirror and smiled to his reflection, trying to gather the courage to do that day’s task: convince Jefferson and Madison to meet in order to talk them through his financial plan. He still didn’t have a clue on how to compromise with them but he had to. He had given a lot of thoughts to his course of action and had decided to go to Jefferson first – Madison wouldn’t talk to him anyway – and let him organize something in order to meet the horrible duo together. Jefferson’s dark eyes haunted his thoughts once more, and he questioned himself if that was the best idea. But he had no choice. He had to try with every cells of his body and be nice – maybe just slightly polite would work too – with Thomas fucking Jefferson.

* * *

Thomas was in his library writing a long letter to Lafayette when the maid announced the visit of the Secretary of Treasury. He almost chocked and was still trying to recompose himself when Alexander Hamilton burst into the room with the I-don’t-want-to-be-here kind of look on his face and an uncomfortable smile.

“Mr. Jefferson,” he said awkwardly, scanning the room with wide eyes.

“Mr. Secretary,” Thomas icy-cold voice welcomed him, “what can I do for you?”

He knew he was being rude not inviting him to sit and making him stand uneasily in the middle of the room – but he couldn’t help it. The day when he had seen Hamilton crying… something had shifted in his chest, he couldn’t explain the emotion but he had felt a long-forgotten warmth inside – that, of course, before being treated like shit by the man. He shouldn’t have never offered his help to an ungrateful little bastard, he had bitterly concluded the same night, while still thinking about Hamilton’s stinging words. He shouldn't have let Hamilton hurt him, he had been naive. When you expose yourself too much, people hurt you.

He cleaned his desk from all the papers while waiting for Hamilton’s answer, but for the first time in his life he noticed that the immigrant was silent. Thomas quickly turned to Hamilton, almost worried – was he having a stroke or something? But then he saw that Alexander was still staring at the piles and piles of books scattered around the room with an excited face. When he finally focused on his host again his eyes were sparkling like the ones of a child on Christmas Eve, he almost forgot the reason why he had come there.

“How can you have so many books?” he inquired accusingly.

“I collected them during my travels,” Thomas replied with a satisfied smirk, he loved to brag about his collection, “most of them are from France and Italy, but I’ve also inherited a couple of books from Monticello and – hey, put that down!”

“What?” Hamilton looked up in disbelief, holding a copy of Machiavelli’s _Il Principe_ in his hands “is it forbidden to read them?”

“This is not a public library, you brute, those are private possessions!” Thomas snorted.

“Asshole,” Hamilton concluded before putting the book back on the shelf.

Well, Alex thought, he hadn’t even started introducing the reason of his visit and he had already insulted Jefferson – great job, Alexander. He breathed deeply a couple of times, trying to pull himself together and not be bothered by Thomas’s air of superiority – that stupid mask Jefferson always wore and that seemed even more fit in that pompous rich house of his.

“Anyway, why are you here?” Thomas asked again, growing suspicious. He could sense that Hamilton was about to ask him a favour – why would he behave so odd if not? The simple sight of his political enemy in his own house was so weird he couldn’t believe in it.

“I want to – I would love to have the possibility to talk with you and Mr Madison about the financial plan,” Hamilton finally spat out, almost without taking a breath, as if he wanted to end that humiliating conversation as soon as possible, “and maybe find a compromise that could be – uhm – convenient for both sides.” Alex lingered on his last words, hoping to make his proposal tempting enough for Jefferson. There certainly was something he would barter for –

“Absolutely not,” Thomas declared with a tone that didn’t admit objections.

But, unfortunately for him, Alexander had never understood when to back off in his life. He had always picked all the battles he could, and was not the kind of person to let it go so easily.

“What the fuck man?” he almost yelled, “are you out of your mind? You can’t just turn away from the only fuckin' option we have to save our economy, do you have a better plan?”

“I can, actually, refuse to compromise with you savage federalists,” Thomas spat back, livid, “whose only concern is money and financial wealth – even when it puts our Nation’s very soul at stake. And I CAN refuse,” he added bitterly, “to sit and talk this outrageous plan through with a repulsive human being, who cannot see beyond his own massive ego, not even to gain what he wants!”

“Excuse me?!” Hamilton was taken aback by Jefferson’s unusual fit of rage.

“That’s right, you brat came into my house after treating me like garbage, and now you’re asking me – no, you’re not even asking, you’ve only insulted me and then presumed that I would accept your offer right away.”

“That’s because I thought you had a little common sense, you asshole – well, my bad!” Alexander knew Jefferson wasn’t completely wrong, but he couldn’t let him have the last word.

A heavy silence fell into the room. The two men looked at each other furiously, Alexander stubbornly crossing his arms on his chest and patting his foot on the ground, waiting for Jefferson to explode or something; he had never seen the Secretary of State so angry. Thomas hard gaze was fixed on Hamilton’s challenging eyes, dark irises melting with rage. Unlike Alexander, he remained perfectly still, trying to get his reason take over his violent emotions. Thomas inspired deeply, hissing the air out of his lungs a couple of times. He knew he was lying to himself: there was no other plan and they were in desperate need of money. But every time Hamilton was within his sight, Thomas lost his usually steady grip on his feelings, and found himself burning, mostly with rage – but there was also a tiny, insignificant part of his heart that rejoiced at every dispute they had. Hamilton was the only person who was actually able to confute his arguments, mastering his dialectical reasoning so skillfully that he had become a constant challenge for Thomas. He had never met someone so intelligent, and yet so childish and stubborn as the man who was in front of him right then, scrutinizing his every action with a disapproving frown on his face. Minutes passed by while Thomas recovered completely and found his composure again. He tried to put on his cocky mask, but then the words spilled out of his mouth, revealing his thoughts without his consent,

“My wife died eight years ago,” he whispered, astounded by his own honesty.

Hamilton looked confused. He was not comfortable talking about feelings, especially with people he hated, and he didn’t know how to answer; so he waited, his mouth slightly open in astonishment.

“I’ve buried three daughters and a son,” Thomas continued, his voice cracking with emotion, “so I know how does it feel to lose someone, Mr Secretary,” his eyes pierced Hamilton’s, “I know the grief and the despair… and I know the numbness that comes after.”

Alexander was shocked. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, but no sound came out. In that very moment, he saw his own grief mirrored in Jefferson’s deep, endless eyes; he saw himself crying till dullness after receiving Henry Laurens’s letter informing him of the death of his son; he saw himself not eating nor sleeping for days, unable to recognise the faces around him. And then, the nothingness. He had woken up one day and had begun to eat, sleep, talk and go to work again, his heart torn apart from his body and the hollow spot in his chest becoming less and less painful day by day – without ever disappearing.

Other interminable minutes passed, Alexander breathed heavily under the weight of the memories that had hit him so unexpectedly. He knew he ought to apologize to Jefferson, to say something – anything – but his body was not responding anymore. After what seemed an eternal moment, Thomas harshly turned his back to Hamilton, his shoulders straight and his head high, and spoke.

“I’ll arrange a meeting with Mr Madison for next week, you’ll receive the details via mail as soon as everything is organized,” his voice was controlled and cool once more, “good day, Mr Secretary.”

Without looking at him, Thomas pulled a thin velvet string that hung to the wall before him and a bell rang. Instantly, a different maid entered the room and bowed at Alexander, escorting him to the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm sorry it took a bit longer for this chapter, but I had a terribly busy week. I hope you're enjoying the story so far, I'm always happy to read your comments on it! Stay tuned! ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter for y'all! If you like the story please leave a comment, it would mean so much for me!  
> Enjoy! <3

Summer evenings were hot and quiet, people wandered around the streets and in the parks, trying to enjoy the last moments of light before the night fell. The sticky summer air carried the sugary smell of the flowers and the delicious scent of food that came from the open windows, attracting the poor, dirty children who lived on the street like bees on a rose. Some young couples, closely observed by their chaperons, walked slowly, arm in arm, whispering their vows softly in the wind and beaming happily. From a bench in the sunny side on the street, someone couldn’t stop coughing and a little group of people crossed the road to avoid passing by the man, who seemed terribly sick.

“Jeez, James, you’re scaring people,” Thomas groaned in disbelief, “for the ten thousandth time, I beg you to call a doctor or I’ll send mine to your door before tomorrow!”

After another fit of coughs, the second man finally caught his breath and managed to respond to his friend.

“It’s just a cold, Thomas. I’ll completely recover in time for Friday’s meeting, don’t worry for me,” James smiled kindly to his friend. They had known each other for a long time, and Thomas had always been apprehensive about his health, acting almost like an elder brother.

“I don’t care about the meeting, James, I’d rather prefer you to rest a bit. These last weeks have been unbearable,” Thomas sighed, thinking about all the meetings he had attended and the load of work that was still waiting him at home, “let’s walk a bit, come on, it’s starting to get dark anyway.”

“Mhm,” James hummed in agreement and painfully stood up, following Thomas along the cobblestone streets of the park.

The two friends walked quietly for several minutes, looking at the people who were hurrying home before the sunset. They were their citizens, the ones for whom they were putting all their efforts in their work. Both Thomas and James were proud of fighting for democracy, they would always defend the rights of the people, standing against those bloody filo-monarchic Federalists. Thomas felt a pang of guilt for the agreement they were probably going to sign. Stupid Alexander Hamilton, he didn’t give a shit about Virginia or all the other Southern States – he tensed and James noticed it at once.

“Are you thinking about Hamilton again?” he asked.

Thomas looked funnily at him, pretending to be deeply offended by the question, and then chuckled.

“Of course I’m thinking about him, we have to gain some benefit for the South, but I still don’t know how to further our cause,” considered Thomas.

“I was thinking,” said James very slowly, “about the new capital”

Thomas stayed silent for a while. That would actually be the perfect way to take some power away from the North. He was deeply lost in his thoughts for some minutes, and then he nodded convincedly – yes, that could work.

“I suggest the Potomac, what do you think?” he winked at James, who was already considering all the best ways to gain the votes – even if, he thought, the capital city in exchange for Hamilton’s banks still seemed too little a victory.

“What about lowering tax obligations for Virginia?” he added then.

Thomas’s eyes lit up – “have I ever told you that I love you?” was his response to the last proposal.

They were still discussing their countermove – Thomas emphasizing his words by gesturing widely with his walking stick – when suddenly a man appeared out of nowhere right before them; he was walking very fast as if he was running away from something, casting worried looks behind his shoulders. He cut in front of them and ruinously clashed against James, who didn’t have the time to remove himself from the man’s way. They both fell down on the street; James started coughing violently because of the crash, while the man immediately jumped up again, muttered his apologies to them and literally fled. Thomas looked alarmed at the man who was already some metres away, still anxiously glancing at them. He had long ruffled brown hair, which had probably got messy because of all that running, bright green eyes, and a crooked – yet pretty – nose. A thin, pinkish scar decorated his face, cutting all the length of his right cheek. He was wearing dark washed out farmer clothes that strongly smelled of tobacco – Thomas had noticed the stinging smell at once, he hated it.

Jefferson kneed next to James, holding his head until the coughing passed, and then helped his friend to get up. James thanked him like seven times, and then turned to look at the man, who wasn’t in sight anymore.

“Who the eff was that madman?” he sputtered, while still trying to recover from the shock.

“I have no idea,” Thomas’s eyes inspected the path from which the man had arrived, “isn’t this the street that leads to Hamilton’s house?”

“Yes? – no, wait, that’s the street but then you have to turn left, I think.”

“Mhm,” he nodded uncertainly – could that man be a robber or something like that? He didn’t seem one. His clothes were poor but clean and neat, and he wasn’t carrying anything of value with him. Moreover, he seemed more frightened than frightening... maybe it was the other way round and Hamilton had scared him – probably just talking non-stop with that big mouth of his. Anyway the thought had probably popped in his head only because they were talking about him before.

“Never mind, let’s just go home” Thomas decided.

Half coughing, half chatting, the two friend headed uptown. The orange twilit sky was starting to fade into a deep blue shade and in the main streets of New York people were lightening their outer oil lamps – they would light up the darkness of the city for a couple more hours. A refreshing breath finally started to descend upon the city, cooling the air and wetting the leaves with dew.

Alexander was pacing the length of his porch, looking at the dim city lights with a heavy heart. He breathed hard and ran his fingers in his hair – oh God, what had he done?

* * *

The following day Thomas received a note from James Madison, informing him that he was sick again. A severe fever and frequent headaches were just two of the symptoms that, only three days later, would be diagnosed as malaria. The meeting was postponed and Thomas spent the following days sitting in James’s hallway – worrying and dozing while waiting for the doctor’s reassurance. Eventually, on the fifth day of agony, the doctor exited James room smiling and Thomas was able to breathe freely at last. James’s sister convinced him to go home and get some rest, now that the worst was over, and he weakly let her guide him to the front door.

It was another sunny day, Thomas took a few breaths of fresh air, unsuccessfully trying to wake up a bit, and started to walk towards his own house, longing for his bed. There were few people in the street – the sound of their chattering slowly joined the noise of the carriages and horses, fading in a buzzing background noise that lulled Thomas, who was only half aware of the bright sun heating his skin, making him even more relaxed and sleepy.

“Oomph,” a muffled sound came from somewhere just in front of him.

Thomas had clashed on something short and soft – and, after a brief moment, that something promptly started to protest loudly.

“Oh my God, Jefferson, are you fucking blind?!” an angry voice snapped.

Thomas blinked a couple of times and the world slowly came into focus again before his eyes. Was that Hamilton? The poor man was so sleep deprived that he needed several seconds to be sure that he was not dreaming, nor having hallucinations. Meanwhile, Alexander witnessed Jefferson’s confused reaction and narrowed his eyes in suspect.

“Are you drunk?” he leaned over to sniff him and, holding his breath in a theatrical way, added “you. fucking. smell. Did you wash at all?”

“I’ve been at Madison’s,” Thomas managed to mumble – god, his back hurt so much, “sleepy. Go away,” and waved his hand as if to send Alexander away with his willpower alone.

Alexander let out a growl of frustration and grabbed Jefferson by his waistcoat; he then placed his own arm around the taller man’s back and helped him walking in a straight line. He could sense that Jefferson was going to fall asleep by any moment because he didn’t complaint and gently leaned on his side, letting him support part of his body weight. Fortunately, the prick’s house was not so far and, after only ten minutes, Alexander was knocking at Jefferson’s door. The maid got really distressed when she opened the door and saw her master in those pitiful conditions. She let Hamilton escort him until the bedroom and then fussed around Jefferson as if he was dying. Alexander rolled his eyes and left the room unnoticed, stopping by the library before going away – Machiavelli’s _Il Principe_ safely in his pocket.


	7. Chapter 7

‘Dear’ Mr Secretary, I have the pleasure to announce that Mr Madison’s health is getting better, and therefore that our meeting can be arranged for next week. I will be expecting your presence at six o’ clock in order to dine and discuss about our agreement-to-be. T. Jefferson.

Did he really wrote “dear” by using the inverted commas? Hamilton hissed at the letter, crumpled it and threw it in the corner of his study. He was alone at home, since Eliza had gone upstate with her family – Angelica had been so disappointed about him not going, but he simply couldn’t go and enjoy himself while his job was at stake. Even when he had known about Madison’s malaria fever, he had been unable to bring to take a break and go upstate for a week or so. He had been alone. Mostly.

“Oh God,” he whined piteously to himself, looking at the other letters on his desk. Among the scribbled papers, the red sealing wax of an open letter continuously reminded him of his weakness, of his infidelity – Alexander couldn’t believe what he had done, and yet the letter R, initial for Reynold, was there, marked on the wax as well as on his body. And now he was trapped: in their last letter, they had threatened him, extorting him money in exchange for their silence – an illusory quiet that would cost him many dollars. Alexander knew he didn’t have a choice, he had to pay in order not to lose his political influence – he was well aware that his enemies wouldn’t wait a second before demanding his resignation if they ever discovered his affair. And he simply couldn’t allow it. That stupid Democratic-Republicans were unable to understand it, but the nation _needed_ him, his financial system was their only way to succeed in building a strong, lasting government. He sighed and started to collect all the letters from the Reynolds, hiding them, forever.

Several hours later, Alexander was heading to the public house to meet Mulligan, one of the first friends he had made in NYC, many years before. The air was still, it seemed like if the whole world was waiting for something to happen, and the quiet on the streets was almost surreal for its seldomness. For a moment, all Alex could hear were his own steps on the dusty road, and the calming note of a song coming from a distance – the sweet humming voice of a woman, probably lulling her baby to sleep a couple of houses away. As he had already done a hundred times before, he started rehearsing his speech for the following week in his head. He listed all the arguments he needed to remember, considering all the possible counter-arguments Jefferson and Madison would use against him and already preparing his defence. It was usual for him to walk around the city, mumbling or even openly speaking to himself – some people thought he was inspiring, others said he was completely nuts.

Two familiar voices interrupted his flow of thoughts and he instinctively jumped away from the main street, hiding in a narrow alley on his left. What were Jefferson and Burr doing together, in the middle of the night? Alexander tried to eavesdrop their conversation but they were too far from his dark refuge – were they…laughing? He dared to cast a quick glance toward them, slightly peeking from behind the corner of the alley. Jefferson was patting Burr on the back in a friendly way and they were both laughing uproariously at something Alexander was completely unaware of. Hamilton’s eyes stuck to Jefferson’s hand, which was still placed on Burr’s back, and he suddenly felt a pang of… jealousy. Well, that was normal – he really hated to be left out, and it was actually quite unusual for him to spy on other people’s private moments. But it wasn’t the only reason. Alexander stuck his head out again, anxious to see what the two of them were doing, and felt the need to go there and shove his fist into Burr’s face, punching him so hard to crack his nose or something. Was it because he was betraying him by being so friendly with the Federalists’ number-one enemy? Or was it because Thomas’s hand on Burr’s shoulder was making Alex’s guts burn with possessiveness? Just a few days before, he had been helping a sleepy Jefferson to walk on the same street, his warm body pressed on him, and his curly hair lightly bouncing over his head…

And then it happened. Jefferson looked away from Burr for just a second and fixed his eyes exactly into Alexander’s. Alex’s heart stopped and he felt his blood running cold into his veins – what should he do? Should he nonchalantly walk out of this damned alley, or run away, or what? He was trying to think fast, but in the end he just stayed there, frozen on his spot by Jefferson’s smug stare. For what it seemed to be a lifetime, Thomas’s brown eyes held his gaze, tying Alexander’s blue, wide eyes to his, reading his very soul like an open book. Then he winked and turned to Burr again, acting as if nothing had happened. Alex abruptly retreated into the deep shadows of the alley, breathing hard and sweating as if he had just had an epiphany. Five seconds. Just five insignificant seconds and his world had been turned upside down.

He ran until he reached the pub where Mulligan was already waiting for him – he was late cause he had taken the longest way around to avoid meeting Jefferson again – and heavily dropped himself on a seat next to his old friend.

“My goodness, Ham, you look like shit!” Hercules greeted him, happily waving a pint of beer and spraying half of it on his unlucky neighbours.

Alex immediately cheered up, Mulligan’s company had always been helpful for his mood – the man was so carefree and genuine it was odd to think that he had worked as a spy for so many years.

“Hey Herc, what’s up?” he smiled to his friend, “I’ll have one of this, thank you very much,” he addressed then to the innkeeper, pointing at Mulligan’s glass.

“Well, business’s going all right,” Mulligan smirked, “and the kids are growing tall and strong, John and William are already helping me at the shop,” he beamed while talking of his children, “little Hercules is a troublemaker... Sometimes I wonder if someone’s personality is also given along with the name! Ha ha, he’s got the same fire I had at his young age,” he paused, taking a big slurp of his beer, “oh yes, Elizabeth asked me to say hello to Eliza and the kids, are they still upstate?”

“Yes, they’re staying at her father’s,” Alex answered, and started telling him about the last letter Eliza had sent him, describing the wonderful colours of summertime in the countryside.

After less than a couple of hours, they were laughing merrily, telling each other old stories – like that time when Lafayette had hidden John’s boots before an important military meeting, and John had had to use Mulligan’s, which were at least one inch longer than his. (“Oh my god, he looked like a child dressed with his parent’s clothes ha ha”); or that time when Alexander had ‘borrowed’ Washington’s wig and was performing an – unexpectedly good – imitation of the General giving orders, when Washington himself entered the room. (“Jeez, he didn’t like it at all, I was appointed to toilets cleaning for a month!”)

Alexander was really grateful to Hercules for distracting him from all his current troubles, enjoying together a pint of beer – OK, several pints of beer – even if only for one night.

“So,” he finally asked, straightening up and looking at Alex with a serious look, “how’s the financial plan stuff going?”

“It’s seems we’re going to reach an agreement, but everything will be decided next week, at Jefferson’s,” Alexander answered, and then immediately gulped some sips of his beer to hide his anxiety – he had just realized that Jefferson could use the account of their last meeting to sow the seed of doubt in Madison’s mind. In fact, from Jefferson’s point of view it must have looked as if Hamilton was stalking him, spying on him! …and it wasn't a complete lie either, he had actually been trying to eavesdrop their conversation, even if it had been unintentional. Shit.

In that exact moment, Alex felt a hand tapping on his shoulder and saw Mulligan’s eyes darken with disfavour. Hamilton turned to find himself face to face with Aaron Burr, who had just gotten into the room. He faked a smile, hoping that Jefferson hadn’t told him anything.

“Alexander, it’s nice to see you outside your office for once,” he joked happily – apparently he was in a good mood and unaware of Alex’s illicit actions.

“Mr Burr, Sir!” he forced himself to equal Burr’s enthusiasm in seeing him, while Hercules grinned threateningly to the newcomer.

“Spit a verse, Burr!” he mocked, raising his fifth glass of the night.

They were both starting to feel a bit tipsy, and Alex chuckled at the memories of his old friends’ bitter encounters with Burr. Lafayette really hated the man, Alex thought with a pang of melancholy - God he missed him and John so much.

“Isn’t it a bit late to show up at the pub?” he inquired clumsily, hoping to know what Burr and Jefferson had been doing.

“I know, but I needed a drink after what happened tonight,” Burr said in a mysterious tone, not adding anything more to his story, waiting for them to take the bait.

Alexander almost snorted – god, what wouldn’t Burr do to receive some attention – and eventually asked, “why? What happened?”

Mulligan’s face was priceless: he looked at Alexander with a disbelieving glance – ‘how could you fall for something so obvious’ he seemed to shout out, while Burr comfortably sat at their table and started to recount.

“I was heading home from work, I had been to John Marshall to discuss those details you'd asked me about,” he reported to Alex, who nodded in acknowledgement, “so, I was on the street and suddenly a man stood in my way, telling me to give him all my money or he would kill me, threatening me with a knife!”

Alex and Hercules exchanged a surprised look, they hadn’t imagined the story to take such a dangerous turn.

“There was nobody on the street, so I couldn’t ask for help,” Burr went on telling the story, “and I had just decided to give him my wallet, when I heard – guess who? Never mind, you could never guess it – Thomas Jefferson’s voice asking me if the man was annoying me. The guy turned at once, but Jefferson punched him in the gut and tried to block his hands. And then,” Burr paused, shivering at the memory, “that scumbag stabbed Thomas in the leg with his knife and tried to fight back, so I hit him on the head with my suitcase, using all my strength, and he sort of collapsed there.”

Alexander was looking at Burr with his mouth open in horror. Thomas had got stabbed? That must had happened just before he had seen him and Burr laughing, probably relieved after having faced such a danger.

“What happened then? Was he hurt?” Alexander sputtered, too high to care about hiding his interest.

“No, the injury was minor, I helped him to go back home and called a doctor for him,” Burr looked shocked at Alexander’s furious face, “that was the least I could do, he saved my life!” he justified his actions, assuming that Hamilton had got angry because of Burr’s consideration towards their common enemy. Little he knew that Alexander was replaying the whole scene in his head: flashes of Burr and Thomas laughing together, Thomas’s hand resting on Burr’s shoulder; and then the two of them going home – Burr helping Thomas to walk. That should have been _him_ , not Burr.

Alexander shook his head to clear his murderous thoughts and smiled an awkward smile to his company. He had to go home now, or he would punch Burr or something – the need he had felt some hours before was even stronger now – so he bade goodnight to his friends, casting an apologetic look to Mulligan for leaving him alone with Burr, and went out. The fresh air of the night immediately sobered him up a little, and he started thinking about everything that had happened in the last three hours and a half. He considered going to Jefferson and see if he was alright – but fortunately he remembered that was too late to that sort of visits. So he forced himself to go home, worried sick about Thomas’s health – what if the wound got infected? – and about his own reputation – was that asshole going to tell everybody about Alex spying on him? What had he seen in his eyes to make him so confident at once? How much did he know about the feelings that Alex had just started to discover?

And while he was surprising himself by perfectly remembering every detail of Thomas’s dark eyes, Alex fell asleep on the couch, still completely dressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo! And so, Alex feels something for his worst enemy, but will he tell it to Jefferson? And, most importantly, will Thomas reciprocate his feeling?  
> If you like the story leave a comment! Stay tuned :D


	8. Chapter 8

“The doctor said you shouldn’t walk for a week or two, remember?” James sighed from the couch, looking at Thomas, who was dragging himself around the house, leaning heavily on his walking stick at every step.

“Yeah, I don’t actually care,” Thomas panted lightly while walking towards the kitchen stove, adding a couple of logs to stoke the fire, “I don’t have the slightest intention of being bed ridden for the next two weeks. I’m simply going to ignore the pain in my leg as well as I can”

James shook his head lightly, following Thomas in the kitchen, and sat at the dining table, waiting for his friend to cook some of his bizarre dishes he discovered in France or Italy.

“What’s on the menu today?” he teased.

“Macaroni and cheese, do you want to join me for lunch?” asked Thomas, while searching for his precious reserve of olive oil.

“Err, no, thank you,” James said quickly, already heading to the exit, “I think I have a visit just after lunch anyway –

Thomas nodded, too focused on his task to notice James’s evasiveness. He tended to ignore – partly for his own choice, partly because people didn’t want to tell him – that he was probably the only person in NYC who liked macaroni and cheese. He didn’t just like it, he was sort of obsessed, and refused to believe that others may not have the same enthusiasm he had. His cookbook was full of foreign recipes, which he loved to cook by himself and taste together with his best wines.

He was about to enjoy one of this perfect moments of culinary bliss, when he heard a lot of noise coming from the entrance. He immediately tried to stand up on his good leg, and then –

“JEFFERSON!” Hamilton voice preceded him in the kitchen; the little man marched inside the room with a straight face, the maid panting her apologies right after him – apparently he hadn’t given her the time to introduce him, and had quickly slipped into the house when she had opened the door.

“Mr Hamilton,” Thomas greeted him, falling down on his chair again.

“How’s – how’s your leg?” Hamilton hesitated before letting Thomas notice his worried look, that instantly scanned the bandages wrapped around his thigh, as if to evaluate the seriousness of the wound through the gauze.

“Oh,” Thomas was genuinely surprised by Hamilton’s manners – yeah, he had irrupted into his house without being invited, but was preoccupied with his health – “well, the doctor says it’s nothing too serious, it’s a clean wound and it won’t get infected”

“Oh good,” he said happily, sitting at the kitchen table without any invitation.

Thomas rolled his eyes and waved the maid to leave them alone. Just some days before, Hamilton had entered his library with his worst attitude, while now he seemed friendly – almost…nice. Was it a trick?

“Do you want to join me?” he pointed at his lunch, “there’s more in the pot on the stove, the one over there –

Hamilton was already by the stove, filling a plate with macaroni and cheese for himself. He looked anxiously at the food, then at Thomas, then at the food again.

“Did _you_ cook it?” he asked suspiciously.

“Indeed. It’s an Italian dish, _una prelibatezza_! _Une gourmandise_!” he bragged.

Eventually, Hamilton sat again, much slower than before, and ate a forkful of it. He chewed cautiously and then looked at Thomas with a funny face.

“Well, this sucks!” he declared, smiling widely at Thomas offended countenance.

“I should have expected such lack of taste from you”

“What are you insinuating? I’ve excellent tastes and they are clearly better than yours, especially in politics!”

“Whaaat?!” Thomas looked astounded at the man, who was eating voraciously nevertheless.

Once more, he had come into his house just to drive him mad – dear god, will he ever learn? – Thomas chuckled. Next time he would offer him dog food or something... supposing that there would be a next time. When had he started to like the presence of Hamilton in his house?

“Hamilton,” he called again, while Alex was helping himself to a second bowl of mac and cheese, “were you spying on me last night?”

Alexander chocked on his food and needed a couple of minutes to be able to speak again without coughing. He hadn’t expected Thomas to be so straightforward about last night. He had actually tried to stop himself from coming there, but he needed to make sure that Thomas was OK – and to investigate a bit about what he had actually seen in the dark alley.

For a moment Alex considered lying to him, but it would only confirm Thomas’s suspicions... right?

“My coat had just got caught on a spike, I was literally stuck there!”

“Really? Do you really expect me to believe this shit?”

“OK, no need to get angry, jeez!” – well, at least he'd tried – “I was going to the pub when I heard Burr voice, and then yours... and I got sort of paranoid – you know, I thought you two were meeting or something, and so I tried to hear the conversation”

Thomas raised his eyebrows so high they almost disappeared under his fluffy hair. Then he suddenly burst into laughs – Hamilton’s confused look only succeeded in amusing him more.

“Well, thank you for your honesty,” he finally managed to say, sweeping away a tear, “but I can guarantee you that it was absolutely no such thing! And you Federalists can keep Burr” he giggled again, “please”.

Hamilton growled – good, now even the Democratic-Republicans knew that Burr was a double-faced leech. He stood up abruptly and squinted at Thomas, who was absolutely fascinated by Alexander’s continuous mood swings.

“Fine, since we've cleared up the matter, I'd better head home,” Alex announced stiffly.

He was terribly relieved that Jefferson haven’t accused him of spying, but he didn’t want Thomas to know it – all things considered, Alex still didn’t know what to think about that meaningful, heart-shaking gaze that Thomas had given him that night.

“Feel free to scare my maid to death anytime you feel like it,” Thomas’s irony followed Alex on the main hall.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow at dinner,” Alex yelled, “I beg you not to serve us that revolting stuff again or I’ll bring a sandwich,” he added, before slamming the door.

* * *

The following night Alexander explored another room of Jefferson's mansion. The dining room, where he and Madison were escorted by a maid he had never seen before, was a long room whose walls were decorated with expensive pictures and portraits. In the middle of the longer side, on the left, there was a big fireplace that hosted a crackling fire; around the room there were different oil-lamps, and a magnificent chandelier hung from the ceiling. A very long table and several solid chairs, all made of dark wood, occupied most of the space in the room – it could have hosted more than twenty people, but tonight it was only Jefferson, Madison and him. The room was well-lit and cozy, but in that very moment Hamilton felt as if the space itself held a great deal of solemnity – it was the room where, only for that night, everything could happen.

They ate – fortunately for Alex and Madison, this time the food was ordinarily delicious – and then started discussing their proposal. Thomas noticed that Alexander wasn’t surprised by their first request, he was probably expecting them to ask for less tax obligations for Virginia; however, he wasn’t happy about the capital. He knew that theirs was not only a political move in order to gain more power for the South, but also a strategy against him – if he surrendered the capital, he would be strongly criticized by a part of the same population that he was trying to help.

Nevertheless, after four hours and several glasses of wine, they all agreed on it and eventually raised a glass to their bargain. Alexander was fully aware of the minor pieces he had sacrificed in their game of chess, but he had reached what he wanted – checkmate, Jefferson!

“Gentlemen, as I think I’d already made clear, it’s never nice to see you, but this one time it had been a pleasure to talk with you –

“You mean, to yell at us,” Jefferson scoffed at him, pouring an old-looking whiskey into three elegant glasses for another toast.

“Yeah, right – however, that was nice,” Alexander snickered, raising his glass and gracelessly drinking all the liquor in one shot. Jefferson looked at him with a disbelieving glance – god, this guy was unbelievable in his lack of good manners!

“You, brute,” he commented, and then elegantly sipped from his own glass.

“What? What did I do?” Alexander was starting to feel dizzy from all the alcohol and the tiredness of the last weeks – he had finally succeeded and now he was maybe relaxing a bit too much.

“You can’t just go and waste an excellent glass of whiskey like that, you have to taste it sip by sip!”

“No problem, I was already planning to steal Madison’s, he’s not gonna drink it anyway,” Alexander sneered, pointing at Madison, who was fast asleep in his armchair.

“No way,” Jefferson unsuccessfully tried not to laugh at the image before his eyes. He’d been scolding Hamilton for his lack of manners and now he needed to have a guest room prepared for Madison, who was already snoring. When had he transformed from a successful political figure into a mum?

Half an hour later, Madison was comfortably sleeping in his usual guestroom – his health had never been that good and since he and Thomas frequently worked together till night, it wasn’t rare for him to spend the night in there; moreover, the house had five guest room, that would have been a shame not to use them from time to time. When Thomas returned to the dining room, Alexander was admiring the paintings, his second glass of whiskey already empty. He was right in front of Thomas’s portrait, examining it closely, as if to memorize every tiny detail.

“Are you enjoying the view?” Jefferson asked, “I definitely am”

Alexander turned briskly, grabbing the back of a chair not to fall – damn, he was feeling a bit unstable. “Thomas!” he wasn’t expecting to be caught and – wait, what had Jefferson just said?

Perhaps it was the alcohol, but Alexander felt his face burning – was he _blushing_? – and suddenly hoped for a natural disaster to take him away in that very moment.

“I, err – I have to go, it’s past midnight,” he decided at last, slurring his words in a very inelegant fashion.

“Of course,” Thomas said slowly, already regretting his rushed words and hoping that Alexander was too drunk to remember them. He then turned and started to walk to the hallway, gripping his walking stick so tight that his knuckles got white.

Alexander followed him to the main door, trying not to wobble too much, and gladly let Thomas help him put his coat on (“Jeez, Jefferson, I’m a grown up man”). In that very moment, Alex turned towards Jefferson to bid him goodnight, just in time to see the man's face stiffening. A flash of understanding passed through Thomas eyes, and he quickly distanced himself from Hamilton.

“Mr Secretary,” he uttered – in less than a second, the arrogant, stone-cold mask that Jefferson always wore in public was put on again, “have a good night,” and left him alone.

Alexander was shocked. What the hell had happened to Jefferson to change his attitude so abruptly? He grumbled to himself while walking homeward, filling up his lungs with the cool air of the night – and then they say that _he_ is the one whose mood changes fast!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so this chapter gives some insights into both Alexander and Thomas's feelings. Not a lot of action but a huge discovery at the end!  
> Let me know if you were expecting it or not, and if you like it!

Weeks passed by in a blur, Alexander spent the rest of the summer meeting with different committees in order to define every single detail of his financial plan – and then spent the rest of the year stressing. On December 15, he finally submitted his request and waited. It was only after another infinite two-months of agony that Washington finally received the all clear from the Congress, and signed the bill into law. Alexander felt as if he had never really breathed before – he had secured his legacy at last; now, he just had to protect it.

It was not as if he hadn’t had work to do in the meantime – he’d had to think about all the practical issues that would have emerged after adopting a mercantile economy policy; he’d had to find the easiest and most affordable way to support manufacturing in order not to depend on Britain anymore, and many other problems. Moreover, he’d finally found himself at loggerheads with Burr: his former friend had sharply criticized his latter decisions, and now he was a senator candidate, running against Hamilton’s father-in-law, supported by – wait for it – the Democratic-Republican party.

Alexander couldn’t believe the news when he’d heard it, he would have gone to Jefferson to blame him for Burr’s actions, but, first of all, he knew it was all Burr’s fault – he’d always been cunning and sneaky when he had to gain benefits for himself; and then, Thomas Jefferson hadn’t talked to him since that dinner. They had met, of course, but they hadn’t found themselves face to face anymore, nor had had the opportunity to meet again outside work. Once, Alex had tried to go and invade his house again, but this time the maid had been prepared: she’d just leaned out of the window, telling him that Jefferson wasn’t home, without even opening the door. Another time, no one had answered at all. At first, he’d really believed that Jefferson had been busy, but the more Thomas seemed to avoid him, the more Alex grew certain that his previous behaviour had been a trick to soften him before the dinner.

He’d got mad, then upset, then angry again – he actually didn’t know what to think, too many thing were happening at the same time. Eliza had returned, happy and relaxed, and even more loving and caring than before, making him feel horrible for what he had done. He had tried to end his affair a couple of times, but every single time he had failed, founding himself heading toward the Reynolds after a tough week at work, the guilt pressing on his heart, heavier and heavier. One of those evenings, he was going there after work – he’d told Eliza he had a late meeting – but decided to take another route so that he would pass by Jefferson’s house. He hadn’t seen Thomas in a week and was starting to feel restless; after all those months he had grown used to ignore him and be ignored... but that didn’t mean that his feelings were gone. He was still attracted by his eyes - every time Jefferson wasn’t looking right at him, he would peek at his face, remembering the night when Thomas had reached his eyes and heart like if it had been the day before.

Alexander was walking quickly, he had just turned into the main street and could already see Jefferson’s house from a distance. He stayed on the opposite side on the street, scanning the house and its surrounding, focusing on each window – hoping to see a glimpse of Thomas’s hair, but he couldn’t see anything. However, while stepping right in front of the house he heard a sound coming from inside – was it music? He slowed down his pace and concentrated on the notes, letting the extremely sad melody warming his heart. Alexander almost stopped there. He knew that it was Jefferson playing his violin, and it seemed like the calling of a mermaid for him – he just wanted to burst into the house and go to him. Instead, he forced himself to walk faster, going away from where he wanted to be, and heading towards the place he despised the most. The music suddenly stopped, helping him to carry on without turning behind till the Reynolds’s house. He changed his route several times – he was growing paranoid and every time was more and more afraid to be discovered. This time he actually felt that weird feeling on the back of his neck, as if someone was observing him, but no one was in sight. He approached the door, still casting glances all around, and finally knocked.

* * *

Thomas was behaving irrationally, he was well aware of that. The first time Alexander had come to his house after the night of the meeting, he had told his maid to send him away. The second time he’d just ignored the knocking at the door, peeping through the second floor window to look at Hamilton’s fidgety figure getting further from him. In the last few days he had stayed at home because of a bad cold, and so he hadn’t had any chance to see Alexander – that’s why that evening he couldn’t help but go after him. He was feeling particularly gloomy, he had just finished writing a letter to his daughter and was missing Monticello more than ever, and so he started wandering restlessly around the house. He entered in one of the guest rooms on the second floor, and spotted his violin abandoned in one corner – the last two weeks he’d been too busy to play. He picked the beautiful instrument and moved closer to the window, opening it – let’s give people a bit of himself for a few minutes – and started to glide the bow, skillfully moving his fingers on the strings. He played Bach’s Partita in D minor, which he knew by heart, pouring all his feelings into his music, as he always did – music was the favourite passion of his soul. He had just finished the third movement and was about to start the fourth one, when he saw Hamilton on the street, right in front of him, walking extremely slowly with a very concentrated expression on his face. Thomas continued playing, putting even more passion into the notes, hoping that Alexander would listen to his desperate call and look at him. He needed to lose himself in Alexander’s eyes once more. But, suddenly, Hamilton started to stride away from his house, from his music, from him. Thomas stopped playing at once and rushed downstairs, without really thinking about what he was doing, and followed Alexander on the street.

Hamilton seemed to sense his presence somehow, he was continuously looking around and changed his direction several times – as a matter of fact, his behaviour only made Thomas more and more suspicious – why being so jumpy and worried if innocent?

“Alexander, what did you do?” he muttered to himself, partially knowing the answer – the night of the dinner, when he had escorted Hamilton to the door, he’d suspected something. They'd been drinking too much, he knew it, and he had felt the strange impulse of closing the distance between Alexander and himself, in that very room when Hamilton had been admiring his portrait. He knew that Alexander wanted him – he’d seen it all in his eyes that night in that alley… He’d seen the jealousy and the passion that were usually well hidden behind those perfect sapphire eyes, except for the fact that for five eternal seconds, Alexander's feelings had been completely stripped by any defense, in plain sight for Thomas to read them. However, he’d also known in that very moment that Hamilton would have never confessed those same feelings to him. He had to be very careful.

And then, while he was helping Alexander put his coat on, he’d experienced a déjà-vu.

_He and James were walking homeward, when suddenly a man appeared out of nowhere right before them; he was walking very fast as if he was running away from something, casting worried looks behind his shoulders… he looked at the man who was already some metres away, still anxiously glancing at them. He had long ruffled brown hair, which had probably got messy because of all that running, bright green eyes, and a crooked – yet pretty – nose. A thin, pinkish scar decorated his face, cutting all the length of his right cheek. He was wearing dark washed out farmer clothes that strongly smelled of tobacco._

Thomas’s sense of smell had always been as good as a truffle dog’s. In that moment with Hamilton, he’d smelled the same acrid tobacco that he’d breathed in that day with Madison. Of course, he couldn’t be certain, it was only a gut feeling, but something had told him that Hamilton and that man were associated with something bad – something he didn’t want to know about. And yet, there he was, following Hamilton around the suburbs of the city, until they reached a very small and half-wrecked house.

Alexander knocked and the door opened. When Thomas saw the same exact man of his memory welcoming Hamilton inside the house with a mean smile, he wasn’t really surprised. He then managed to catch some glimpses through the windows: the man went upstairs, while Hamilton and a woman – probably the tobacco-man’s wife – were talking in a very unfriendly fashion; Hamilton gave something to her, Thomas couldn’t see what it was. But then, he watched as the woman exited the house with a wide grin on her face and a bunch of dollars in her hands. She cast a last glance to the house and went away, leaving the two men alone.

Well – Thomas thought – _that_ was a shock.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this new chapter, let me know your thoughts!  
> Last time I forgot to give you the link to Bach's song Thomas was playing at the violin, so here it is: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lpe7thXd69E (the fourth movement is really sad and SO beautiful)

_Knock, knock, knock._

“Alexander,” his wife called him from downstairs, “there’s a messenger here for you.” After a few seconds, her round face peeked from the door of his study, “he says he’s got important documents that have to be handed directly to you,” she added, lowering the volume, and went in her room.

Alexander whiffled lightly, he didn’t like to be interrupted while working, and stood up to go and fetch those damned documents. Right before the entrance, a young boy was holding a small package and a note in his hands, waiting for him to personally take them. Hamilton looked suspiciously at the box – wasn’t it too little for documents? – and took the note from the boy’s hands. He recognized the calligraphy at once and quickly grabbed the package, thanked the messenger and went upstairs, climbing two stairs at a time.

_I hope this will receive more appreciation than my last culinary masterpiece._

Alexander read the note twice – it couldn’t be Jefferson, right? He hadn’t spoken to him in ages. They were almost as strangers as they had been before their first meeting. That couldn’t be right…could it?

He slowly opened the package, gently removing the twine and uncovering the content: it was… what was it? Three fluffy squared things had been piled in what Hamilton then discovered to be a very expensive fabric, with Jefferson’s initials elegantly embroidered in a corner. He tasted a very small bite from one of those things – it was sweet…ish – oh god, it was delicious! Alexander ate the three strange cakes in a blink and then looked at the cloth again, while licking his fingers – should he return it to Jefferson? He didn’t want to, but if that would mean seeing Thomas again, then there were no other choices. He quickly grabbed his coat and rushed to the door.

“Alexander, where are you going? Supper’s almost ready,” Eliza tried to call after him.

“M’not hungry!” he yelled back, striding out of the house.

“Well, at least take an umbrella with you, it’s raining outside –”

But her voice echoed in the empty hall. She looked sadly at him through the window pane before closing the curtains with an angry move – her Alexander was more and more distant and she didn’t know what to do.

* * *

In less than fifteen minutes, regardless being completely wet, Alexander knocked at Jefferson’s door, wondering if he’d waken up so happy that morning, or if his mood had changed in the last half an hour. The maid peeped from the window before opening the door – gosh, it seemed he’d really scared her last time – and didn’t try to block him when he entered the room uninvited. She looked concerned at the small puddle that was spreading at his feet and the water dripping from his clothes, but, in the end, she just pointed quietly at one door on the other end of the house and went to search something to mop the floor.

Alexander softly walked in, trying not to disturb the perfect stillness of the room. At first he saw no one, but then he noticed that there was another door slightly open, from where the noise of the pouring rain entered the room. Alex opened the door to found himself on a wide porch, surrounded by a huge and luxuriant garden, in the back side of the house. Jefferson was sitting in a armchair whose seat back was so high it seemed a throne, except for the colour – it was covered in a very dark green fabric, decorated with golden doodles. He was reading a thick book, his concentrated face partially covered by his curly hair, while a pair of silver reading glasses made his countenance very serious – and definitely cute.

“Ehem,” Hamilton cleared his throat to announce his presence.

“Alexander,” Jefferson looked up from his book and smiled genuinely, “that’s new – not hearing you when you’re less than a mile close,” he joked.

“Ha-ha,” Hamilton mocked him, “that’s so funny, but I’m too sick to be noisy today,” he faked a stomach ache, grinning to the taller man, who hid his laughter with a cough.

“You can’t be serious! No one – never – complained about my waffles!”

“Oh, so that’s their name. I was going to call them puffy griddlecakes, but that’s better”

“So, you liked them or not?” – was Jefferson really concerned about him liking his food?

“Yeah, of course I liked them,” Alexander confessed, rolling his eyes at Thomas’s evident pleasure, “anyway, I don’t understand why’d you do that. I thought we were busy hating each other again.”

“Oh my – again? Why are you assuming that it’d stopped at a certain point?” Thomas raised his eyebrow, but it was crystal clear he was enjoying himself.

“Answer the question, Jefferson,” Alexander suddenly felt the desperate need to know the reason why Thomas was talking to him again, “…please?”

Jefferson was very surprised by the grave tone of Alex’s voice and stood quiet for a minute. He wasn’t expecting Hamilton to forgive him so early – damn it, he wasn’t expecting to be forgiven at all. After all, why should Alexander care about him? They’d been enemies for more than a year – they’d only talked like decent people a couple of times – why should Alexander want him back? And yet, Hamilton was there, soaked to the bone, waiting for an answer after he’d received a couple of waffles and a note without a signature. What did it mean? What did Alexander want from him?

“I – I missed you,” he finally said, never breaking eye contact with Alexander’s sincere eyes.

Time stopped. Now it was Thomas’s turn to wait for an answer. He knew he’d said the wrong thing from the exact moment he’d finished uttering those words – but now it was too late, and Alexander was staring back at him with a terrified look.

“What do you mean?” he asked coolly, without looking away – his eyes betrayed him and Thomas saw a glimpse of hope beyond the harsh surface – “you don’t even know me”

“I know you enough to say that I’m happier when you’re around,” Thomas pushed on, “and it seems to me that you’re merrier too. Look,” he urged Alexander not to go away, since the latter had tried to turn his back to him, “I know you’re scared. But I’m pretty sure you’re not afraid of me or my words,” he gently put his hand on Alex’s shoulder, “I think you’re scared by your own feelings; but, Alexander, I can assure you that –

Alexander violently shook Thomas’s hand off his body and began to walk away through the muddy garden, his boots sinking deep into the ground and his already-wet clothes starting to drip again.

He wouldn’t stay any longer, that was pure torture. Thomas Jefferson confessing his feelings for _him_ – a married man, who also happened to be his political nemesis? – it was surely a trap, and he wouldn’t fuckin' fall for it.

“Alexander!” a strong grip caught his arm, making him turn only to find Thomas’s soaked figure standing in front of him. The rain was so heavy he almost couldn’t see the porch anymore, and it was only a few metres away.

“Why?” Alexander almost sobbed while shouting at Thomas’s perfect face, “why are you doing this to me? Do you really hate me so much you want me hanged for sodomy? I’m a married man, for God’s sake, how did you even conceived such a cruel trick?” he blinked away an angry tear – which quickly joined the stream of rain pouring on his face – and stood there, clenching his fists in frustration.

Thomas’s heart nearly broke – Alexander’s eyes were looking at him with an imploring and hurt stare, silently begging him not to mess with his feelings.

“Alexander,” he whispered softly, taking a hesitant step forward, as if not to scare a wild animal, “I’m not joking,” and leaned his hands delicately on Alexander’s shoulders once more, “please, believe me, every single word I said is true – I’m happier when you’re around, and I can’t stand the times when you’re not. Since you came into my life… I don’t feel so empty anymore.”

Alexander’s sky-blue eyes widened in surprise. He clearly remembered all the things Thomas had said when he'd talked about the people he'd lost... about the emptiness that remains after – was he telling the truth then? He stood wordlessly in front of Jefferson, the rain mercilessly soaking both of them to the bone and hiding them to the world. It seemed like a surreal moment, as if the time had stopped only for them. He looked at Thomas without trying to move away from him, completely helpless.

Thomas moved another shy step forward – their faces were just inches apart now – and slowly surrounded Alexander’s quivering figure with his arms, holding him tight for a minute. He felt that Alexander’s breath was deepening and his heart was beating so fast he feared he would explode – was it Alexander’s or his own heartbeat? Finally, he drew back just a little to lose himself again into his favourite eyes, and slowly – so that Alexander had the time to push him away if he wished to – leaned his face towards the shorter man’s, pressing his lips on Alexander’s. For a moment, Thomas felt complete again – Alex’s tense body instantly relaxed and he eagerly kissed Thomas back, fastening his hands on his neck and pulling him closer. The rain was still pattering on their heads – Thomas’s hair was a complete mess – and dripping from every inch of their bodies, but they couldn’t care less. For a moment, everything was perfect and their wet kiss was the best they’d ever had. And then the moment ended and Alexander separated from Thomas, pulling away gently but steadily.

“I have to go,” he said in a grave voice, “I have so much on my mind right now and I need some time to think,” he added quickly for the sake of Thomas, who was already staring at him with a regretful face.

“Please,” Thomas held Alex’s hand as if he feared to see him vanish into water drops, “come to me once you'll make up your mind. Even if you decide that you don’t want to see me anymore, I would understand and respect it, but _please_ – please come and tell me yourself,” he seemed desperate.

“I promise,” Alexander brought Thomas's hand to his face for a second, and then he was gone.

Thomas stood perfectly still under the rain for some minutes more, unable to accept that such a perfect moment was already over. Eventually, he slowly turned and dragged himself inside his huge and empty house.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, here's a brand new chapter for y'all. I'm pretty happy with it, I hope you enjoy it... and don't forget to comment and bookmark the story ;)
> 
> \--> This is not the end of the story, so stay tuned for more chapters! <\--

Thomas was going mad. It had been three weeks and he hadn’t heard from Alexander at all – three. fucking. weeks. Fortunately, winter was almost over and so he’d spent most of the time outside, riding or walking around with James. Unfortunately, they’d frequently met Aaron Burr, who was always very happy to join them. One of those unlucky days, Thomas and James were walking their usual path in the park, when they saw the senator candidate running towards them with a wicked smile and a bunch of documents in his hand.

“Mr Secretary, Mr Madison, good day,” he panted, “I’m sorry to disturb you, but you really need to see this,” and gave the papers to Madison, who quickly scanned the pages with his sharp eyes, his gaze more and more amazed at every page.

“Let’s go,” he spoke excitedly to Thomas, who was looking distractedly at the naked trees of the park, thinking about how beautiful the sound of the rain was, “we need to go home right now, we finally have something to end Hamilton’s career once and for all!”

Half an hour later they were at Madison’s, discussing the shocking content of the documents. Thomas, who’d gained all his vitality and concentration back when he’d heard Hamilton’s name, was now pacing back and forth next to the table where all the papers were scattered. He simply couldn’t believe it – Hamilton was not a fraud. Thomas hadn’t told his allies about Hamilton’s affair with James Reynolds yet. He didn’t want to, but what if the accusations were true? Had Hamilton been using the Government’s money to pay that wicked woman and her dirty husband? No – that wasn’t the Alexander he knew, that wasn’t _his_ Alexander. But again, how much he still didn’t know about Hamilton?

“So, we know for sure that Hamilton is paying huge sums of money to Mr James Reynolds, should we dig deeper and find out why?” Burr asked in an excited voice, “or at least try and talk to Reynolds himself?”

“I don’t think so,” Thomas replied quickly – god, he was literally dying to talk with James Reynolds alone, and maybe to beat the shit out of him – “he could alert Hamilton so that he’ll find a way to cover his tracks – no, we need to catch him unawares”

“That’s right,” Madison agreed with him, “sadly, we can’t do anything right now since Hamilton’s got Washington on his side. Maybe,” he paused a moment, planning his strategy, “we should keep this information for ourselves – just for now – and see how it goes. Timing is everything!”

“Agreed,” Thomas was immensely relieved, “we’ll use it when it’ll damage Hamilton the most” – and maybe he would have had the time to talk to Alexander before that.

“Yes,” Burr nodded in agreement, “that’s our best shot”

“Well, I could keep the documents at my house, I’ve got a safe to hide them –

“No need for it Thomas, we’ll keep them here. I doubt that any thief would come and steal some valueless papers, and here’s safer since Hamilton doesn’t come to _my_ house shouting at me every week,” James joked, while Burr listened carefully.

“Yeah, right – well, fortunately, he doesn’t come _every week_ at my house to act as a madman, it only happened twice,” Thomas forced himself to laugh, pouring salt into his own wound – shit, he would want Hamilton with him every single day, if that were even a possibility – “and twice is more than enough for me!”

* * *

Another long week passed by. Thomas was really considering the prospect of going at Hamilton’s, but – unlike Alexander – he was not the kind of person who commonly burst into other people’s houses. Then, one cloudy evening, he heard someone forcefully knocking at his door – no one with a sense of courtesy would ever knock at someone’s door so insistently. He rushed to the front door, almost crashing into his maid – he’d completely forgotten that there were other people in the house – and opened it at once. Alexander was already stepping in, when he suddenly realized that the tall figure in front of him was not the usual housemaid, and stopped harshly.

“Did you give the night off to your staff?” Alexander joked, looking at him with a surprised face.

Thomas, however, didn’t laugh. He stared at Hamilton with a very odd look – scanning him with a suspecting gaze and stepping aside to let him pass. He closed the door and leaned against it, trying to concentrate – he needed some privacy to talk with Hamilton, and, more importantly, he absolutely had to sort his feelings out in order to be impartial.

“Tell the others to take the night off,” he stiffly spatted at the maid, who bowed a very deep bow and went away in a blink, as if she was afraid that he would change his mind before letting her go away.

“Wow, Jefferson – I was joking,” Alexander began to say, terribly amused by the show, “but I suppose you won’t die if they don’t spoon-feed you for once”

“Have you dined yet?” Thomas asked, too absent-minded to laugh at his joke – again.

“Not yet”

“Stay, would you?”

“What are you cooking?”

“Fricassee,” answered Thomas, who was already heading to the kitchen, without waiting for his answer.

“Well, I’ll stay – if you were even wondering,” Hamilton muttered to himself, throwing his coat on a couch and following him into the room.

The fireplace was lit, the fire was heating and cheering the small room, and Thomas took a couple of burning logs from there to heat the wood stove faster. Then, he disappeared into an adjoining room to re-emerge with a bottle of wine and two elegant glasses; he poured the expensive red wine, looking askance at Alexander – was he really the kind of man able use the Government’s money for his own personal purposes? – he couldn’t stop thinking about the latest discovery. He was so lost in his own thoughts he almost forgot the reason why Alexander had come to his house; but then, out of the blue, Thomas remembered about Alex’s promise, about their kiss –

“Wait a minute” he said, suddenly anxious, “do we actually have something to toast to?” he asked hesitantly, wondering if he really wanted to know the answer.

“Well, I was going to tell you, but since you’re acting very weird I think I wanna know your thoughts first,” Alexander was cautious – had Thomas changed his mind?

“Oh wow, so now I’m weird,” Thomas was shocked, “I have just two words for you, Alexander: _one_ fucking _month_!”

“That’s three words!”

“Fuck you,” Thomas was really getting mad now, “that’s one month. Four bloody weeks. What did you have to think about that took you so long?”

“I had some things I must do before coming here, Thomas – I” he took a deep breath, “I’m sorry. Truly.”

Thomas was not completely calm yet, and so he silently turned away from him and started chopping the onions and carrots. It was not an everyday thing to hear Hamilton’s apologies, but his words wouldn’t delete the past days. He put all the ingredients in the pot and only then turned again to look at Alexander. Cooking had always been a medicine for him, the attention he needed to pick all the ingredients and the care to prepare his complex dishes had always soothed his restless mind.

“Like what?” he asked in a very composed voice, “what did you have to do before coming here?”

“That’s not your business, Thomas – look, do you still want an answer or not?” Alexander was starting to feel uncomfortable and nervous, “cause if you’ve changed your mind I’d better go home right now”

“Alexander,” Thomas was so confused, they needed to talk things over right now, “I could never change my mind about what I said to you last time –

“Well, you don’t look very happy to have me around now,” Alex interrupted accusingly, a glimpse of disappointment in his eyes.

“If you let me speak, you’ll understand why I’m having some doubts,” – should he tell him the truth or not? Would Alexander be honest with him? – “Alexander, I know about James Reynolds”

The heavy silence that followed his words pressed in on him like a ton of ice water, Thomas felt a shiver running through his spine while he carefully observed Alexander, recording every single reaction that would confirm him guilty. Alexander’s eyes widened with terror and he held his breath for a couple of seconds, trying to articulate some words –

“WHAT?” he shouted so loudly that Thomas’s ears hurt, “how do you know about him? Did he come here and told you, did he –

“Alexander, calm down for a minute, please,” Thomas was afraid the man would have an heart attack – he was trying to maintain his composure, but was evidently shocked.

“So you know what I had to end then,” he still looked very shaken, but also quite abashed “I’ve ended our… business, and he and his wife threatened me again, saying they would tell everyone about it. But this time I’ve been true to my word and I haven’t come back to them. And so, he’s come to tell you!”

“Err, that’s not exactly what happened,” Thomas was extremely grateful to know that Alexander had ended his affair, but he still had to ask him a very important question, “someone’s tracked your money back to some fat checks you gave Mr James Reynolds, specifically last summer”

“Did you do it?” Alexander couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I would never do such a thing…now,” Thomas sighed, adding quietly “but, Alexander, if it’s true that you used the Government’s money for this shit, I’ll have to ask you to leave now”

Alexander looked at him for some moments with an extremely hurt expression on his face, then he stood up and exited the room without another word.

“Well, I suppose that answers my question then,” Thomas whispered weakly to himself, before slipping on the same chair Hamilton had just left, his hands buried in his hair, and the feeling of despair growing stronger and stronger into his chest.

He stood still in that same position for what seemed hours, trying not to think about what he’d lost before even really owning it - was this the story of his life? Was it his destiny to live without love? The water in the pot was boiling and the lid started to jingle, trying and failing to contain the steam within the pot, but Thomas didn’t care. He wasn’t hungry anymore, he just wanted to delete the memory of those damned documents from his mind.

“Thomas?” a quiet voice suddenly shook him from his numbness.

He raised his eyes from the room’s floor to look at the man, who seemed exhausted, as if he’d run a long way.

“Alexander? I thought you were gone,” the relief in Thomas voice was clear.

“Yeah, I was – I had to go home to take something,” he produced a small diary from the pocket of his coat, “I’ve kept a record of every check right here, you can see it yourself that I’ve never spent a cent that wasn’t mine”

Thomas took the small book with trembling hands, and started scanning carefully every single page, while Hamilton explained the situation to him.

“Mr Reynolds’s wife, Maria, courted me and tricked me into following her to her house,” he said, “and when she had me in a corner, that’s when Reynolds blackmailed me. I know I may have mortally wounded my prospects, but you can see that my papers are orderly”

“Yes, I see that,” Thomas gave the book back to his owner, “and I believe you – except for the fact that Maria isn't the one you had the affair with, am I right?”

“What are you saying?”

“Ok, Alexander please, don’t get mad,” – now that he knew that Hamilton was innocent, Thomas had his own confession to make – “I saw you with James Reynolds, I followed you one night and I saw his wife going away, leaving you two alone”

“You followed me?”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t planning to do it, but then one day I was playing my violin and I saw you right in front of me, walking so circumspectly that I couldn’t stop myself from doing it – please don’t go”

Alexander was fuming. He was ready to leave the house slamming every single door on the way; but when he met Thomas’s gaze again, he felt his rage fade at once - he couldn’t even move. Those dark, warm eyes, that were usually so snob and self-confident, were now burning with feelings, softening Thomas’s countenance in a way that he loved.

“That’s ok,” he heard himself say.

He couldn’t look away from Thomas’s face, it was as if he’d been bewitched by its every single feature – especially his lips. Thomas must have noticed it, since he smirked and moved closer to him.

“So, now that there’s no more misunderstanding,” he said in a very low, deep voice, “do you have your answer?”

“My answer?” Alexander echoed mindlessly, too distracted by Thomas to really think about what he was saying.

“About us”

Thomas moved closer and closer, until Alexander felt his back pressing to the wall. He bit his lip, while Thomas blocked his way out by leaning on the wall with both hands, trapping him there.

“Yeah,” he saw Thomas’s eyes flashing with desire when he bit his lip again – oh, so he likes it, good to know – and finally said, “I want to be with you, Thomas, or at least try to –

But he couldn’t even finish the sentence, since Thomas’s lips met his own in a blink and he felt his strong arms holding him as if he was the most precious thing he’d got - his hands gently grasping his face. That kiss was nothing like their first one – it was equally perfect, of course, but this time they were both aware of their feelings and sure about what they were doing. Alexander felt Thomas’s tongue gently pressing on his lips, and he parted them to kiss him with a passion he hadn’t felt for a long time. After some minutes, they broke away a moment to catch their breath, looking into each other’s eyes, still lost in their overwhelming emotions.

“Are you staying tonight?” Thomas whispered softly into his ear.

“I haven’t got an excuse to stay out all night, Eliza could kill me,” Alexander moaned, “but I’ll think of something for next week, ok?”

“Sounds good”

“Am I still invited for dinner, tho?”

“Shit!” Thomas rushed to the stove, were the pot laid forgotten, “it’s all burnt,” he sighed.

“I can’t believe it, and it happened the one time when you were actually cooking something edible,” Alexander laughed, looking at the ruined pot.

Thomas rolled his eyes at him and chuckled, then disappeared in the other room once more.

“If you’re bringing more wine to let me forget about your culinary failure, I’d totally approve it,” Alex yelled after him, but Thomas re-emerged with some cheese and half a loaf of bread.

“The bread's not fresh, it’s yesterday’s, but it will do,” he announced, shrugging and pouring more wine into the glasses to make amends.

“That’s perfect,” Alexander smiled widely, his beautiful eyes glowing with joy.

Thomas observed him while he ungraciously stuffed a huge piece of cheese into his mouth – making the former scold him again on his lack of manners, and the latter almost choke on his own food. However, the accident didn’t ruin Alex's mood at all, and he continued chatting and eating as if he hadn’t a single problem in the world. Thomas couldn’t believe to be the reason behind such delight – gosh, he was dining with Alexander Hamilton, his political enemy and the man he’d been hating for so long... and yet, he couldn’t think of him in those terms anymore. He was Alexander, _his_ Alexander, and nothing would have ever been the same.


	12. Chapter 12

“Mr Madison”

“Mr Hamilton, right when we were starting to believe that you wouldn’t create other problems, here you are again”

“It’s always a pleasure to be your worst nightmare,” Hamilton grinned at the sickly man in front of him, before turning to the taller one, “Mr Jefferson”

“Mr Secretary,” Thomas looked at him snobbishly, “I was almost hoping you were too busy playing with your banks to come and vex the grown-ups,” he sneered.

Alexander’s jaw dropped – so _that_ ’s how this is gonna work, Jefferson? great – “Well, Mr Secretary,” he mocked, “I would love to take a break from you dogs, except for the fact that without me and my little ‘toy’ banks you old scumbags would be debt-ridden, whining in the middle of utter anarchy, so…” he shrugged, “you’re welcome, I guess,” and entered the room without waiting for an answer.

Thomas hid a conspiratorial smile and followed him inside, holding the door open for James and casting a look around the room, where the other Cabinet members were already taking their seats at the meeting table. Hamilton went sitting right next to Washington, while Jefferson and Madison found their place on the opposite side of the room – they would still be able to hear Hamilton from over there, since he usually shouted every word for the whole building to hear. After a couple of minutes, Washington stood up and the room went silent at once.

“Today’s meeting has been called in order to discuss our Secretary of Treasury’s plan for industrialization,” he turned to Hamilton, who sprang up from his seat, “Secretary Hamilton, you have the floor”

Alexander quickly arranged his papers, smiling cleverly at his audience, before fixing his gaze on Jefferson, “let’s talk about the future of the States’ manufacturing,” he began in a challenging voice.

As expected, everyone within the building had been able to hear Hamilton’s and Jefferson’s debate going on in the Cabinet room.

“The farmers, not the market, are the future of the States!”

“Aren’t they subject to the market as everyone else? And who’s appointed you as farmer representative, you high-class fancy ass?”

“Who are you planning to cheer for when the struggle between the manufacturers and the employees will break out? We knew you were an Anglophile, but to this length!”

“And, tell us, Jefferson, how long are you still planning to live in fairyland? We’re trying to run a real nation here, you moron!”

When Washington’s calm voice eventually put an end to their quarrel, everyone in half a mile range breathed a sigh of relief. Cabinet members started to pour out of the room as fast as they could – no one wanted to be around to witness the follow-up discussion, since the two Secretaries often brought their arguments out with them, continuing disputing on the street right in front of the building.

Fortunately, Hamilton had to remain inside to draw up the details of the manufacturing plan, while Jefferson and Madison slowly walked outside.

“How did he succeed in convincing the Cabinet, _again_?” Jefferson’s feeling toward Alexander were a confused mixture of disbelief, annoyance and pride.

“It must be nice to have Washington on your side,” James glanced at him with a you-know-what-I-mean look on his face and began to walk towards the carriage.

“Can you wait for a minute? I need to fetch some documents from my office to work on them at home”

James nodded and entered the carriage, while Thomas turned around and headed straight to Hamilton’s office. He peeked inside – he was alone, good – and entered, carefully closing the door behind him.

“Jefferson, what do you think you’re d–

Thomas brought one finger to his lips, shushing him quietly before locking the door. He moved closer, approaching him with two long strides, and stood there for some moments, watching him oddly.

“I don’t know if you’re here to kiss me or to murder me,” Alexander whispered, terribly amused by Thomas’s look.

“I haven’t decided yet”

“Well, in case you wanted to do both, I suggest you to kiss me first – that would also be my last wish,” he squinted at him in a flirtatious way.

“Cute,” Thomas smirked, “what did you do with the awful Secretary of Treasury I was talking to just some minutes ago?”

“Hey, you started it! I was about to behave like a perfect gentleman, when you addressed me using such childish terms”

“When did you ever behave like a gentleman?” Thomas scoffed him, while surrounding his shorter figure in his arms, “I’ve just decided I’m not gonna kiss you”

“Do I have to call for help?”

“Ha-ha. I’m actually planning to convince you to come to my place later, the kiss will be your prize”

“What about one now and many other later?”

“Wow – aren’t we greedy?” Thomas leered at him with his night-time eyes for some moments, relishing Alexander’s yearning gaze, and then bent down a little to press his lips on his enemy’s.

“See you later, you crazy little thing”

“See ya, loser,” Alexander cheerily waved him goodbye, while Thomas slipped out of the room and pranced all the way back to Madison.

* * *

_Dear Mr Secretary, due to an unexpected event I’m afraid we have to postpone out meeting to a later date. A. Ham_

Thomas read the note grimly before going back to his book. He was sitting in his favourite spot in the library, right before the warming fireplace that provided him with heat and enough light to read at night. He sighed while his eyes went through the same line for the third time, without recording a single word – he’d been planning to spend the night in a more enjoyable way, but then he’d received that short note and had retired in the library, wondering what had possibly happened to prevent Alexander for coming there. He stood up and reached for his violin and Vivaldi’s score from “La Stravaganza”, tuned the instrument carefully, and started playing one of the most passionate violin pieces by the Italian composer, the concerto No 4 in A minor, the notes reminding him of a long-awaited kiss.

When he finally went to bed it was late at night, he’d fallen asleep in the library until the fire had extinguished and he’d waken up cold and dizzy. He reluctantly dragged himself upstairs to his bedroom and was fast asleep in less than a minute.

_The room was hot and sticky, the last weeks had been very warm and the coolness from the previous night had already faded, leaving the sick, bed-ridden woman covered with sweat. The candles were all burnt out, and a dim light came from the window – the milky sky slightly covered by a thin layer of fog. Thomas was holding his wife’s weak hand, sobbing quietly and muttering unintelligible words to himself. A black woman was gently wiping the sweat from Martha’s forehead with a wet cloth, whispering to her ear in a reassuring voice. Thomas could feel Martha’s hand shivering, hot with fever – his wife had been slipping in and out of an unconscious state for the whole night and was now panting, her eyes wide open with pain._

_“Thomas,” her feeble voice called him._

_“Yes, my love, I’m here,” Thomas broken voice promptly comforted her._

_“Promise – promise me you won’t marry again,” she breathed hard, “I don’t want our children to be raised by a stepmother, please Thomas, promise me…”_

_“Martha please, don’t give up,” Thomas was sobbing again, “please, sweetheart, don’t –_

_“Our little John is too sensible to grow up with another mother, and Mary would hate it,” a fit of coughs left her even weaker, unable to end her speech._

_Thomas was shocked by her words – he didn’t remind her that their John had died several years before. It seemed as if the gravity of her conditions had hit him, at last._

_“I promise, love, I won’t marry nor love anyone else, ever again,” Thomas’s voice failed him for a moment, “how can I go on without you, Martha, please, don’t leave me, please”_

_He repeated those words like a mantra, squeezing her hand and crying, he repeated them until his throat was so sore he couldn’t speak anymore. He knew there were other people in the room with them now, softly shaking him or trying to take him away from Martha’s body, but he wouldn’t move._

_“Thomas,” James’s voice echoed in his ears, “Thomas, please, she’s gone, come with me, Thomas –_

“Thomas –

Jefferson woke up in a start, completely covered in sweat. He looked around in the dark room, his heart was beating so hard in his chest it seemed to be trying to escape from his body. Then, a cold hand grabbed his arm and he jumped so violently he found himself to the other end of the bed.

“Shit Thomas, it’s me! Alexander!”

“What the fuck are you doin’ here in the middle of the night?” Thomas was still too scared to be nice with him.

“I promised you I would come, and here I am,” Hamilton approached him slowly, his hands raised above his head as if to calm a feral animal, “and it looks like I came right on time… I’m sorry I woke you up, but you were having a nightmare and I can’t stand seeing you cry”

Thomas brought a hand to his face – it was wet with tears.

“Don’t worry, I’m better now,” he quickly wiped the tears away, “how did you come in anyway?”

“Oh, I stole your keys last night,” he shrugged nonchalantly and climbed on the bed, “can I stay for a while? I have to go away before dawn, Eliza thinks I’m working in my study”

Thomas shifted to the side to make some room for Alexander, pulling him into his arms as soon as he lied next to him. They stood like that for a while, Thomas started to relax again.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Not really”

“That’s ok”

Another quiet moment followed, Thomas happily hiding his face into Alexander’s hair.

“Alexander?”

“Mmh?”

“Why didn’t you come tonight?”

“But I’m here,” Alexander sleepy voice was barely audible.

“You know, before”

“T’was my son’s birthday – James’s”

“I see”

“I forgot”

“You’re here now,” Thomas kissed his forehead and sighed, “thank you for waking me up”

“You’re welcome,” Alex drowsily continued, “I have a lot of nightmares too”

“Do you want to talk about them?”

“Not really”

Thomas chuckled lightly and closed his eyes. Alexander was there with him and his usually cold, empty bed felt like the best place in the whole world. Feeling Alexander’s warm body pressed to his own and adjusting his breath to Alexander’s, he eventually relaxed and slipped in a more peaceful, dreamless sleep.

The following morning he woke up in an empty bed. The sun was already raising, painting the sky with pink and orange strokes and casting his bright and warm rays right on his face. Thomas searched the room with his gaze, looking for something to confirm that last night hadn’t been a dream. Alexander wasn’t there, but then he noticed a small scrap of paper on the pillow.

_You’re way better when you’re asleep. See you soon._

He got up, feeling rested and active, and went to the kitchen to cook some waffles, just in case Alexander decided to drop by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vivaldi's "La Stravaganza": www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Cvg_T_Bovo [from 6.25]


	13. Chapter 13

That summer began as one of the best Alexander had ever had. He stayed a couple of weeks upstate with Eliza, making her immensely happy after a very difficult year – his late dedication to her never completely wiped away his guilt for his infidelity, but it was good to see her smile again. He went around with his father-in-law and his son, riding and fishing, teaching Philip how to shoot; he took long strolls with Eliza, finding a new path to walk every day and bringing the children along for a picnic a couple of times; he read them some poems by Pope, who was one of his favourites, after dinner, when the children usually invaded the living room, crowding the spot right before the fireplace, and Eliza sat at the piano, playing softly, or at the writing table to draft one of her long letters to Angelica. When everyone finally went to bed, Alexander usually put the poems aside and worked on the manufacturing plans, writing letters to his subordinates and directing his work from a distance. The days when he had a lot of correspondence to deal with – so that no one would notice every single address – he would slip a letter for Thomas among the others, addressing it to Monticello, since Thomas was spending some time there with his two daughters. He missed him immensely, but he never dared writing anything compromising within his letters – they couldn’t risk being discovered and it was already odd enough for the two of them to exchange letters, even without professing their illegal feelings for each other. Alexander had grown up in the Caribbean, where sodomites were being transferred to be imprisoned or hanged, and knew the punishments they were risking – flogging, castration, or death. They couldn’t take such a chance.

After two weeks, he returned to New York, leaving his family enjoying the tranquility of the countryside, and worked non-stop in order to have some advantages on those idiotic Democratic-Republicans – he needed everything to be flawless, for Burr had been nominated senator that March and was causing him quite a number of problems. He and Thomas had discussed several times about the latter’s relationship with Burr, but after some bad arguments they had formally agreed on never talking about work when they were alone. However, Thomas frequently met with Burr and Madison, and Alexander wasn’t happy at all; that stupid traitor was threatening him both in his role as Jefferson’s enemy – they were plotting something against the Federalists, he could sense it – and as Jefferson’s lover – Alexander hadn’t forgotten about Burr and Thomas’s misadventure with the thief, and felt jealous every time he saw them together. But, fortunately, he didn’t have to worry about that now, since Thomas would stay at Monticello for at least another week, and so Alexander worked, and worked, and worked…

“I don’t know, I found him like this on the floor of his study,” Washington’s voice seemed to come from miles and miles away, it was dim as if Alexander was listening to it from under the water.

“He may have been like this for days, no one has seen him or heard from him for a while,” Mulligan’s voice was also twisted, as if in a confused dream – it was so strange to hear him anxious.

“I’ve written to his wife, but she won’t receive the note until tomorrow,” another voice added, “I have to tell you, gentlemen, his conditions are very bad. I’ve given him some medicine and I’ll proceed to the phlebotomy right away” – oh, so that was the doctor.

He lost consciousness again. His dreams were so much better than reality at first – Thomas was there with him, holding his hand and kissing him gently – but then Alex was shivering with fever again and Thomas’s voice came to him weaker and weaker – _don’t you dare do this to me Alexander, you hear me, right? Don’t you dare give up, I couldn’t stand it again, please…_

He opened his eyes to a candle-lit room and blinked several times to adapt his sight to the light that, despite being feeble, hurt his deep blue eyes. The first thing he acknowledged was that his body was sore – every single inch of it hurt – and that he had a lot of dry blood on his arms and legs. Then, he turned his head slightly and noticed his wife, asleep in an armchair on the side of his bed, her beautiful face tired and very pale. He tried to touch her, but failed after a weak try, dropping is hand back on the bed.

“Hey,” Eliza’s eyes were half-closed, but she was awake, “how’re you feeling honey?”

“As shit,” he croaked and coughed, while his wife hastily grabbed a glass of water and helped him drink it little by little.

“What happened?” he managed to say after a minute.

“You weren’t handing in your work, so Washington came here to check on you and found you lying on the floor, shivering with fever,” she smiled weakly, “we should have known it, you fall ill almost every year”

“Was it malaria again? How long have I slept?”

“Yes, it was,” she hesitated, “well, you’ve been sleeping for almost five days, but the doctor said you’d been unconscious for a while before Washington found you”

Alexander groaned in annoyance – he didn’t have time to be sick, for fuck’s sake – and tried to get up, but Eliza blocked his way, her eyes flashing threateningly.

“You have to rest”

“I have to work!”

“Alexander,” a dangerous note of warning echoed in her voice.

“Yeah, whatever,” he retorted bitterly.

He knew she was right, but he’d suddenly felt like if he was in a hurry of doing something – Thomas! He needed to see Thomas! He had to get up, write to him, let him know he was all right... but he was so tired he couldn’t even keep his eyes open…

After a couple of minutes, Eliza got up and stretched; then, she turned to the door from where little Philip’s face was peeping curiously.

“Is pa awake?” he whispered.

“He’s sleeping again,” she followed him out of the room and quietly closed the door, “but it seems the worst is over”

“Those two gentlemen stopped by again, half an hour ago”

“I wonder why do they bother – I thought they hated you father,” she collected some clean sheets and wipes, kissed Philip on the forehead and headed back to her husband.

* * *

Another week passed before Alexander was strong enough to sit and hold his quill. The first thing he did was to write long letters to Washington – he had some important questions about work – Mulligan, Lafayette and all the other people who could have been worried for his health. Among the heavy envelopes, he hid a short note addressed: _Jefferson, 57 Maiden Lane, NYC_ ; he’d quickly scribbled a couple of lines, hoping his wife’s sharp eyes wouldn’t notice it, since in those days she was almost always by his side, constantly observing him with an anxious look.

“Eliza, dear,” he called her, knowing she wouldn’t deny anything to him in that moment, “I really need some other paper, and we’ve finished the sealing wax – I need it since I’ll work from home for a while”

“That’s ok, I’ll go fetch them tomorrow morning”

“I need them today hon,” he puppy-eyed her, “please?”

“Oh, all right – is it ok for you to stay alone for a couple of hours?”

“Don’t worry for me, I’ll rest a bit”

“I’ll be home soon,” she kissed him quickly and left.

After a bit more than twenty minutes, someone knocked at the main door. Alexander gathered the little strength he’d left to get up from his bed and walk to the entrance, supporting himself on anything that would help him not to fall. He opened the door and almost collapsed on the spot out of exhaustion. Two strong arms promptly caught him and, a moment later, he found himself curled up against Thomas’s chest, while the man carried him back to his bed without effort.

“I knew you were yearning to throw yourself in my arms again, but isn’t it a little too much?”

“You know me, I’m a drama queen,” Alex smiled his first true smile after weeks – god, he’d really missed Jefferson: his black curly hair, that framed his strong jawline and his proud dark eyes, were long enough to caress his broad shoulders; his perfectly shaped lips could make his face so imposing, almost fierce, when serious, and yet sweeten his countenance when they smiled. Damn, he was so beautiful.

“You’re breathtaking,” he whispered, feeling suddenly emotional.

“I know it, love,” Thomas winked at him, “but it’s nice that you’ve finally admitted it”

“Oh god – I’d almost forgotten what a jerk you are!”

“You look terrible anyway,” Thomas sat on the bed next to him.

“I’ve been unconscious for a while and then too weak to write to you,” Alexander started apologizing, “and Eliza hasn't left me alone for a whole minute, anyway. She would have never left my bed if she wasn’t completely sure I wasn’t going to die”

Thomas stiffened a little, seeming uncomfortable.

“Yeah, I saw you just before she got here”

“What? Why were you here?”

“Washington told James you were sick, and he wrote me the same day,” he explained, “I rode here right away so that I could see you before your wife arrived – I know it was reckless, but I was scared that was my last chance to see you”

“I heard you, I think,” Alexander suddenly remembered, “I heard your voice in a dream”

Thomas’s reaction to his words was hard to read. He opened his mouth as if to say something but then closed it again and became very serious.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Do you have to ask?”

A shadow of a smile flashed on his face, but a moment later he was intensely looking at him again, his deep eyes already tasting Alexander’s lips even before touching them. Then, he delicately took Alexander’s face in his warm hands and closed the distance between them. In less than a second, all the time they’d spent apart disappeared; the doubts, the worry, the absence they’d felt during the last weeks faded away. Thomas’s fingers draw the shape of Alexander’s face, chest, arms, as if to be sure he was not an illusion – he was real, they were still real – and he gently grabbed Alex’s hair to deepen their kiss. They both knew their time was running out, Thomas had to leave before Eliza returned, but they bodies, as well as their souls, refused to part – eventually, Thomas painfully pulled away from Alex’s arms and stood up.

“I’ve rarely been so scared in my life as these last weeks,” Thomas's eyes also seemed reluctant to leave Alexander’s, “but now that I know you’re getting better, I’ll be able to wait a little more before coming here and kidnapping you”

“Well, that’s comforting”

“Let me know when I can come again”

“Of course – next time bring some waffles”

“You’re incredible,” Thomas gave Alexander one of his stunning smiles, sending him a kiss from the door before going away.

Alexander’s heart was racing – when did he start being so affected by Thomas’s presence? Yes, he’d always been terribly beautiful, but Alexander had almost always controlled himself around him. Well, he’d probably only missed Jefferson's stupid face. However, feeling all those emotions in such a short time had left him dead tired – Eliza found him asleep, a sweet smile lingering on his lips.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I really hope you'll like this chapter... it's a long one about Thomas, it mainly consists in Thomas's POV on the events described in the previous one, but it's very important for the character's development and to understand his feelings for Alexander. Enjoy!

There was silence that morning on the luxuriant hill where Monticello had been built. It was not a complete quiet, but the twits of the birds and the distant voices of the people working in the plantations were so different from the loud noises of the city that Thomas almost didn’t notice them. He’d waken up early and cooked breakfast for his daughters – double portion for Patsy, who was carrying her first child and her due date was really close – and then he’d gone for a walk but, in the end, he found himself standing in the family cemetery, again.

_Martha Jefferson_

_Daughter of John Wayles and Martha Eppes_

_Born October 19th 1748. O.S._

_Intermarried with Thomas Jefferson_

_January 1st 1772; torn from him by death_

_September 6th 1782: this monument of his love_

_is inscribed._

He’d asked to add that last sentences, he wanted everyone to know what a wonderful woman his wife was, especially for him.

“Hi, my love,” he started, with a lump in his throat at the sight of her name on the marble stone, “I miss you so much – I swear I do. It doesn’t matter what I do, how many friends I have or what distractions I find, every single day I wish you were still here with me”

He talked about everything he’d done in France – well, he omitted some little details – and about his days in NYC as Secretary of State; he told her about his plans with Madison and the important dinners and meeting he was having in order to set stronger basis to their newborn nation.

“You should see how much arguing I’m forced to do every day,” he smiled for a second, “there’s this Secretary of Treasury, Hamilton, who’s the worst. He’s always quibbling over something and he’s too straightforward, even ill-mannered from time to time –

Thomas looked around to be sure no one was listening. His sad smile had grown into an adoring one, but he didn’t noticed yet.

“We used to be enemies and hate each other, but now it’s not like that anymore. You know, I haven’t really felt anything for a long time, Martha, because from the day you left me alone, I simply refused to go on without you. I still had the love of our wonderful daughters, and that was enough for me. I’ve met some other people in the last years, but what they offered to me was something I’d lost long before – I didn’t have any love to give back… and even if I’d had it, I wouldn’t have given it to anyone. But Alexander – that’s Hamilton’s first name – he didn’t give me love; he gave me hate, and anger, and something to fight against. After many years, I felt heated by our arguments and had a reason – probably a bad one, but a real reason anyway – to get up and go to work every day”

Thomas kneeled in front of the tombstone, his face growing livelier with every word he uttered. Then, he paused and looked solemnly at the tombstone, his head dropping after some moments.

“Martha, you have to forgive me, but I can’t keep my promise anymore. I won’t ever marry, that’s a certainty – not that our daughters would mind, they are grown-up now – but I can’t live without love. If there was a way to hold you again in my arms, without taking away my own life – and believe me, love, I’ve considered it many times – I would do whatever it takes to have you back. But you’re in a better place right now, and I have to go on somehow. I never settled for the easiest path, and this time too it won’t be easy, but I’m ready to love again and I wanted you to know it –

“I will never forget you nor stop loving you,” he sobbed quietly and got up from the ground.

Now that he’d finally said it out loud, he felt the urgent need to repeat his words to Alexander – he had to go back to New York as soon as possible. He stormed into the house and wrote two letters, one addressed to Madison and one to Hamilton, informing both that he was coming back earlier, and that he would take a couple of short stopovers on the Potomac first and then in Philadelphia – he was positive he would arrive in NYC within nine to ten days. Then, he went to say goodbye to Polly and Patsy, hoping to see them very soon, and left for New York. The journey was smooth and uneventful, he spent the time reading or looking at the beautiful natural landscapes of his beloved Virginia; however, he was grateful that his travels were about to end when he reached Philadelphia – just a couple of days and he would see Alexander, and be able to relax in his New York mansion again. Once he’d reached his accommodation for the night, Thomas was very surprised to find an urgent note from Madison, informing him that the President had been lamenting a lack of correspondence with the Treasury Secretary in the last couple of days and that Hamilton had been found unconscious and severely ill in his house that very day.

“Fetch me a horse,” Thomas ordered hastily at the boy who was unloading his baggage from the carriage, “I’ll leave you the address, you can ship the luggage tomorrow, but I need a horse now!”

Despite being exhausted by the journey, less than twenty minutes later Thomas was already mounting on a strong brownish horse – one of the fastest, the hostel owner had assured him – having arranged the shipping of his baggage and the return of the horse for the following days. He rode as fast as he could, his thoughts focused on a simple request – _for goddamn’s sake, Alexander, don’t die!_

He rode the entire night and arrived in New York the following day, around midnight – he wanted to go see Alexander right away, but didn’t know what excuse to use; what if his wife was already there? – and so he decided to wait until the following morning, taking a bath and unsuccessfully trying to sleep. Finally, a little after dawn, he wrote a letter to Madison, asking if he wanted to join him in paying a visit to the Secretary, and hoping James wouldn’t find his request too strange to comply it. Fortunately - and therefore alarmingly - Madison was so troubled by Hamilton’s health that he accepted his invitation at once, and was weakly knocking at his door a couple of hours later. They chatted awkwardly about their holidays and James tactfully noticed Thomas’s timely arrival, while shooting quick glances to the dark circles that framed his tired eyes. Dr Hosack met them in an irritated fashion – his patient’s conditions were critical and he couldn’t accept visitors, he said – and so Madison started asking him a ton of questions about Hamilton’s health and, after knowing that it was malaria, he engaged the doctor in a further discussion about his own health problems. Once understood that Mrs. Hamilton hadn’t returned yet, Thomas muttered something about a book he needed borrowing and slipped out of the confused doctor’s sight; he headed towards Alexander’s room and entered without knocking, losing no time in closing the door right after him.

The scene that disclosed in front of his eyes was dreadful: Alexander seemed to be unconscious, but his sleep was not a quiet one, since he was tossing and shivering, his face beaded with sweat. The whole situation seemed to mirror Thomas’s worst nightmares. Trembling with fear, he slowly approached Alexander’s bed and wiped away the sweat from his forehead, uncertainly taking him between his arms and whispering softly to his ear.

“Shh, Alexander, I’m here love – I’m here,” Thomas’s words seemed to calm Alex’s feverish tremor for some minutes, “ _Je suis là, reviens moi mon coeur, je t’en prie_ ”

Suddenly, Alexander started shivering again, his lips trembling and muttering inarticulate sounds; he seemed in such pain that Thomas instantly lost his façade of bravery, the memory of Martha’s death bed imprinted forever in his mind not to have a terrible déjà-vu.

“Don’t you dare do this to me Alexander, you hear me, right? Don’t you dare give up, I couldn’t stand it again, please – 

Heavy steps echoed from outside the room, warning Thomas that someone was about to come in. He reluctantly released Alexander from his embrace and grabbed the first book he found at hand, heading for the door right when the doctor flung it open and looked at him with a disapproving glance.

“I’ve found the book,” Thomas numbly justified his behaviour, unable to look the doctor in the eyes.

He shoot a last glance to Alexander – what if that was the last time he would ever see him? – and went back to James, who inquired about the book. Thomas raised the item to let Madison read the title on the cover, noticing for the first time that he was holding his own copy of Machiavelli’s Il Principe.

“He stole it,” Thomas explained – more to himself than to James – and slipped the book in the pocket of his coat, forgetting about it for the moment.

“What did the doctor say?”

“He hopes Mrs. Hamilton will come tomorrow, so that she might still be in time to see him alive,” Madison looked gravely at him, “did you see him?”

“Yes”

Madison didn’t ask anything else. Maybe, having already seen Thomas’s eyes the day when Martha had died, he recognised the same look on his face, guessing what kind of image Thomas must have witnessed just minutes earlier. They went home without uttering another word, quickly shaking their hands with affection before parting.

* * *

By the time Alexander’s letter reached him, Thomas was having nightmares every night – it was always the same horrible dream, but sometimes Martha’s agonizing face changed into Alexander’s. The previous night he’d also dreamt about the day of Martha’s funeral, when she’d been buried in the damp ground, and he’d been standing there for hours after the ceremony had ended, alone in front of her tombstone. Then, the scene had changed but, even if he was standing before her tomb once more, this time he was smiling – “I’m ready to love again,” the words were still echoing in his dreams when he woke up in a start. As he’d done every single day since he’d returned from Monticello, he started his day trying to calm down and control his anxiety; he curled under the bed sheets and breathed deeply several times, trying to focus on his last dream –

“I’m ready to love again,” he murmured, remembering.

After Martha’s death, he’d been too scared to lose someone else and couldn’t bring himself to love. And now that he finally felt ready, now that he was about to disclose his feelings to Alexander – now, Alex was ill and could die in any moment! What would he do if Alexander too was torn away from him? His breathing grew more and more laboured, he was panicking – warm tears came streaming out of his dark eyes; he let himself drown in despair for some minutes and then tried to get a grip on his fears. After a while his breath was even again and he feebly got up, leaving his nightmares behind him, hidden in the heavy blankets of his bed.

Thomas resolved that he would try and visit Alexander again that day, he couldn’t wait another minute; he got dressed and rushed down the stairs, grabbing his coat and walking stick, and storming out of the door so hurriedly that he almost step on the postman.

“Yes, thank you very much,” he dismissed the man hastily, tearing off the letters from his hands without looking at them.

“Sir,” the postman called him, alarmed by his manners, “there’s an urgent note for you, among the mail,” he warned, and walked away stiffly, muttering something about ‘the good old days when people treated postmen with respect’.

Thomas checked out the mail and almost dropped all the letters when he saw his address written by Alexander’s handwriting. The note was very short: We’ve got till 12 am. Hurry.

Thomas threw himself in his carriage, yelling the address to the coachman, and found himself on Alexander’s doorstep in little more than ten minutes. He knocked and waited, anxiously shifting his weight from a leg to another and ticking with his fingers on his walking stick.

The door opened and a white-pale Alexander threw himself into his arms. In a blink, Thomas felt his chest heating again after weeks of cold emptiness - he promptly picked Alexander up in his arms and kicked the door closed. He inhaled the smell of Alexander’s skin, feeling at home, and hungrily scanned the man’s full shape to be sure he was ok – he’d dreamt so much about him dying that he was almost surprised to see him alive and relatively healthy.

“I knew you were yearning to throw yourself in my arms again, but isn’t it a little too much?”

“You know me, I’m a drama queen,” Alexander gave him one of his genuine smiles, the ones Thomas loved so much, and then looked intensely at his face, apparently lost in his thoughts.

Thomas lulled him in his arms for a while, and then carefully lied him down on the bed, sitting next to him and waiting for him to voice his thoughts. Alexander’s countenance was almost funny to see; he looked at Thomas as if he was having an epiphany in that very moment.

“You’re breathtaking”

“I know it, love, but it’s nice that you’ve finally admitted it”

“Oh god – I’d almost forgotten what a jerk you are!” he laughed.

“You look terrible anyway”

“I’ve been unconscious for a while and then too weak to write to you,” Alexander was still looking at him with a strange gaze, but sighed at his remark “and Eliza hasn’t left me alone for a whole minute, anyway. She would have never left my bed if she wasn’t completely sure I wasn’t going to die”

“Yeah, I saw you just before she got here”

“I heard you, I think,” Alexander said hesitantly, “I heard your voice in a dream”

As soon as he heard Alexander's words, Thomas's heart started to race, and several powerful feelings pervaded him at once. The first one was joy, it was an odd emotion to feel after all the sadness of the previous days – but now Thomas knew that his words had somehow reached Alexander when he was fighting against the fever, that he’d heard his voice… Then, he felt a strong possessiveness and a pang of pain at the same time – he wanted to take Alexander home with him, that was the right place for him to be, but he knew it was an impossible demand. Shyly, another feeling followed – he suddenly knew why he couldn’t stand losing Alexander.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Do you have to ask?”

Thomas had longed for that kiss in a way he couldn’t phrase, even if he really wanted Alexander to know. Last time he’d been in that room, he’d thought he wouldn’t see him, hold him, nor kiss him anymore; after leaving, he’d had so many hours to contemplate the worst-case scenario that he’d already started mourning that perfect image that now was before his eyes once more. When his lips touched Alexander’s, he realized that wasn’t a dream – Alexander was alive and Thomas was really holding him, caressing him – and he wished for that moment to last forever. But, too soon, he had to draw away from him, stamping a last quick kiss on his forehead.

“Let me know when I can come again,” Thomas reminded him.

“Of course – next time bring some waffles”

“You’re incredible,” he went away laughing, feeling happy and deeply in love for the first time after nine long years.


	15. Chapter 15

By the end of the summer, Thomas was the happiest man in New York. After his first visit, they had found many other occasions to meet and, as soon as Alexander had been strong enough to walk, he’d made up a couple of excuses – that he would go to Mulligan’s or to his office – and he’d spent many perfect afternoons and evenings with Thomas, just the two of them at last. Since Alexander was still recovering, they had spent a lot of time reading in Thomas’s library, sitting in the garden when the evening was warm enough, and playing some duets – Alexander played a bit of piano and Thomas was skilled enough with his violin to transcribe whichever song Alexander’s wanted to play. They’d carefully avoided talking about anything that could make Alexander upset, since the doctor had strongly recommended him not to participate in political debates – and not to stress in general. However, Alexander was still working on his plans, he sometimes sat at Thomas’s desk and wrote pages and pages of essays about the future of manufacturing – those times, Thomas would look at him snorting and telling him that it was unbelievable to think that he, Jefferson, was lending his desk to Alexander Hamilton to work for the project he despised the most.

“You won’t despise it when our manufacturing power will be stronger than Britain’s,” Alexander would reply, “when we’ll be free to have textile products without trading with them anymore”

“Why do you always seem to love Britain when you make your public speeches, and to hate it when we’re alone?”

“Because you never really listen, honey”

In the end, Thomas would always drop their arguments – he didn’t want to stress him out. He still hadn’t told him about his change of feelings, even if they seemed to be plainly written in every look, every gesture and every word Thomas addressed him with – how could Alexander be so blind to his love?

One morning, he went to his study to write down some counter argument to Alexander’s plan – he was slowly dropping behind and didn’t want to stop fighting for what he believed it was the right thing to do, even if that would mean to oppose the man he loved. He suddenly noticed a book, lying on the floor next to a beautiful ceramic vase he’d bought in France; he picked it up and looked at the cover, remembering the day when he retrieved it – it was Machiavelli’s _Il Principe_. He hadn’t noticed it the day when he threw the book away in desperation, but there were letters stuffed among the pages. He let the papers fall on the desk and hesitantly started to read the first one. It was dated July 1782, it’d been written during the war, and was signed by Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens. The more Thomas read, the more confused he felt – it seemed as if he was peeping into someone’s private love letters and, when he reached the end of the first letter, he couldn’t believe what he was looking at.

_Adieu, my dear friend; while circumstances place so great a distance between us, I entreat you not to withdraw the consolation of your letters. You know the unalterable sentiments of your affectionate Laurens_

Thomas put away the letters signed by J. Laurens and looked at the ones that brought Alexander’s handwriting – why would he keep his own letters, if they’d been already sent to someone else?

_April 1779_

_Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my Dear Laurens, it might_ _be in my power, by action rather than words, to convince you that I love you. I shall only tell you that ‘till you bade us Adieu, I hardly knew the value you had taught my heart to set upon you._

_September 1779_

_I have written you five or six letters since you left Philadelphia and I should have written you more had you made proper return. But like a jealous lover, when I thought you slighted my caresses, my affection was alarmed and my vanity piqued. I had almost resolved to lavish no more of them upon you and to reject you as an inconstant and an ungrateful —. But you have now disarmed my resentment and by a single mark of attention made up the quarrel._

_September 1780_

_In spite of Schuylers black eyes, I have still a part for the public and another for you; so your impatience to have me married is misplaced; a strange cure by the way, as if after matrimony I was to be less devoted that I am now._

Thomas put the whole lot aside – what was the meaning of those letters? He’d heard Lieutenant John Laurens’s name before, but he couldn’t remember when. Why hadn’t Alexander ever spoken about him? Was it because he and Laurens were still seeing each other? Why were their letters in his book? And when the hell had Alexander stolen it? – too many questions. Thomas tiredly dropped in his chair, rubbing his temples and looking at the letters with a jealous gaze. Eventually, he collected all the letters and opened the book again to stuff them in – that’s when he noticed Alexander’s handwriting on the very pages of the book… Did that asshole ruined his book with ink?!

_Dear Sir, I’ve stolen your precious book in order to put its contents at good use: I’ll underline and comment every reference that can be linked back to your political figure, and I have all the intentions to use them as insults to your integrity in each of our debates – it will be extremely amusing to use them against you and maybe, one day, return the book. Or maybe not. Publius_

Thomas groaned – that stupid bastard, how dared he doodle on one of his books? He quickly turned the pages, discovering that Hamilton had scribbled them with side notes and ingenious ways to insult him – wait, is it why he’d called him ‘Caesar’ that one time? – but all the comments abruptly stopped after about three fourths of the book. He flipped through the pages till the last one, where he found other lines, written in very small characters. He put his glasses on and squint his eyes to read.

_June 19th, 1790_

_If I ever return this book to you: your macaroni and cheese sucks!_

_June, 20th_

_Dinner was nice, wine was better. Company was boring. You said something very interesting though, I wonder if it was the whiskey talking or if you really think I’m hot. Didn’t understand your sudden change of manners towards me at the end of the night._

_July 15th_

_You’re behaving very differently from the past weeks. I came at your house today but the maid didn’t let me in. Was it all a game? Were you pretending to be someone you’re not, only to soften me up before the meeting?_

_July 31th_

_You’re an asshole again. I came to your house and no one answered at the door, not even the maid. So, you’ve confirmed to be an egoistic and deceiving prick once more. The one good thing is that you’re not talking to me, so I don’t have to endure your presence anymore._

_February 25th, 1791_

_Yeah, take that! Stupid Jefferson!_

_March 3rd_

_I have to say that I find myself in a very odd situation right now. Never in my life I would have imagined to be kissed by my worst enemy. You said you’re happy when I’m around and that pleases me more than I thought, but I still can’t understand why did you mistreat me in the last months. I confess, my heart has been troubled since the time I saw you with Burr - I tried and couldn’t forget the feeling I had when I saw your eyes, I mean really saw them, for the first time. I felt as if I’d been blind until then, and they have taken me captive from that moment on – I became a magnet, or a sunflower, and now I revolve around your figure when you’re next to me. Yet, how can I trust you?_

_March 14th_

_I’ve done a lot of thinking, but I haven’t decided yet – or, I’d better say, I haven’t understood my own feelings yet. How could we ever make this work when our ideals are so different? Will you hate me when I’ll speak against slavery, threatening your precious belongings? Will I still hate you – yes, I hate you even now – for exploiting human beings? I won’t change my mind on this topic, ever. Perhaps, one day, I’ll tell you about John, about how he bravely fought against slavery in South Carolina, while also fighting for the freedom of our country and our citizens – all of them, whites and blacks. You wrote the Declaration, but you seem not to believe in that same document, written and signed by your own quill only a few years ago. How can I betray John’s memory and stay with you, maybe love you one day? I won’t ever love anyone as I loved John – no, I can’t do it. I’ll tell you I cannot see you anymore._

_March 20th_

_I still haven’t brought myself to tell you that I don’t want you. That’s because it’s simply not true, I like you too much to give you up, and yet I can’t stay with you – how mean is this world to the good souls!_

_March 27th_

_Yesterday I saw you with Madison and Burr – you seemed distressed, something in the way you walked wasn’t right, and your eyes seemed deeper than ever. You didn’t see me, fortunately, since I still don’t have an answer for you. I’d like to know what is that upsets you, to comfort you…to kiss you again – what is it that you’ve done to me? I’ve been bewitched and there’s no escape for me – I’m tremendously jealous of Burr, he can come and see you every time he wants and no one would suspect, even if he’s such a chameleon. God, tell me how to say no to this._

The last entry, Thomas noticed, had been added by Alexander right before his illness – it was dated June 19th, 1791.

_A year has passed since I first ate your macaroni and cheese – they’re still a terrible memory anyway – but I can’t really wrap my mind around all the changes that have happened in these last months. In my life I’ve learnt that there are different kinds of love – it’s probably the same essence every time, but it takes different shapes… I’ve loved many people in my life, as friends, as family and as lovers. The affection I feel for my wife is true and deep, but I wouldn’t have chosen to marry her if there had been any possibility to marry and spend the rest of my life with John – she’s the best person I know and I want her to be happy, but my love for her is incomplete. And now, almost ten years after John’s death, I’m feeling whole again. I have so much to learn about you, Thomas, but I’m willing to do so._

When he finally closed the book, Thomas’s heart was hosting a mix-up of different emotions. And so, Alexander was experiencing the same turmoil of feelings, he was facing the same difficulties he had to overcome some time ago – yeah, he’d had to face the possibility of a life without him to understand that he wouldn’t accept any future scenario in which Alexander wasn’t with him. What would it take for Alexander to win his fears and love him?

* * *

Alexander kissed Eliza goodbye and walked steadily to the door – he’d regain all his strength and was feeling particularly good in the last days, no bone-ache or stiffness of any kind.

“I’m going to see Herc,” he informed his wife, and headed out.

It was a beautiful late summer day, the weather was starting to change and a light breeze was coming from the west, shaking the green and yellow leaves and making them dance elegantly in the frisky air. Alexander walked till the street corner, where Thomas’s carriage usually waited for him, and waved to the coachman before getting in. The coach stopped a couple of streets before Jefferson’s house and Alexander walked the remaining meters trying to look innocent, as if he was just taking a stroll.

“I can’t wait to see our strategy play out,” a voice came from inside the house, but it wasn’t Thomas’s.

Alexander slowed his pace and didn’t enter Thomas’s walkway, carrying on the main road. Therefore, when the door swung open and Aaron Burr exited with a cocky smile on his face, he was already some feet away from them. Unfortunately, Burr saw him anyway –

“Alexander, what a nice surprise to see you here,” he greeted him as if the house was his – Alexander felt his jaw stiffening and his fists clutching in response.

“Aaron Burr, Sir”

“Mr Secretary,” Madison face appeared from the door as the man followed Burr outside.

“Mr Hamilton,” another very controlled voice greeted him from the doorstep – it was Jefferson’s.

“Oh my god, were you trying to conjure a demon or something? The three of you, all staffed together in the same room – that would be enough to summon Satan himself” Alexander commented bitterly.

“And indeed, here you are!” Thomas muttered.

“Scared of our partnership, are you, Hamilton?” Burr challenged him.

“Ha! You wish,” Alexander retorted, “the three of you couldn’t gather two brain cells to rub together”

At these words, Burr visibly tensed; meanwhile, Madison quietly got on his carriage and left without a second glance. Thomas, however, didn’t know whether to close the door and leave them alone or try and smooth the situation.

“Come on, Aaron, let him be,” Thomas decided to divert Burr’s attention and placed his hand on his shoulder to restrain him, “he insults people so frequently that no one cares about his insinuations anymore”

Jefferson then turned to Hamilton and froze – uh-oh, that hadn’t been the wisest move. Alexander’s stare was fixed on the hand he’d placed on Burr’s shoulder, and his face clearly showed disgust at Thomas’s betrayal – Thomas hoped Alexander wouldn’t do something reckless, it wasn’t the right moment to make a scene, they were on the main street and everyone was watching them, for god’s sake!

“Is that so?” Alexander’s fists were shaking with rage, but he stood there on the sidewalk, motionless. He feared that if he’d moved even the tiniest muscle, he wouldn’t be able to refrain from jumping down at Burr’s throat. Thomas’s eyes flashed at him with a warning, before he turned to Burr again, a friendly smile on his face.

“You’re right Thomas,” it seemed as if Burr knew that their camaraderie would make Alexander mad – who did he think he was, calling Thomas by his first name? – and began to walk down the street, “can’t wait to eat your macaroni and cheese again anyway –

That was the moment when Alexander’s fist collided with Burr’s nose, breaking it – he felt the delicate bone cracking under his knuckles, followed by the man’s moan. Despite being taken off-guard by the unexpected blow, Burr quickly reacted and punched Alexander in the stomach, making him fall on his knees; Alexander had to take a couple of seconds to catch his breath.

“What the fuck, Hamilton,” Burr spat, “are you out of your mind?”

Alexander took advantage of his hesitation and got up, tackling him and making him fall on the ground. He raised his fist again to hit and –

“Enough, Alexander, now _stop_!” Jefferson’s voice shouted from behind him. Thomas’s hand blocked his arm, while trying to drag him away from Burr, “people are watching,” he murmured in a harsh whisper.

Alexander got up in bewilderment, as if waken up from a trance, and looked around - some people were standing on the other side of the street, whispering his name and trying to see who was the man on the ground. Thomas was towering above him with a threatening look, confronting him as if he too wanted to fight.

“Take the long route and come in from the backdoor in ten,” he hissed in a low tone.

He abruptly turned his back to him and went to Burr, helping him to get up and giving him an handkerchief for the blood.

Alexander turned around and walked away without uttering another word. He strode until he reached Trinity Church and then stopped a minute to catch his breath – he hadn’t had some action since his fever and was feeling quite exhausted. He retraced his steps to Jefferson’s again, walking considerably slower, and cut through the garden to go and knock at the back door. But once in the garden, he spotted Thomas’s livid figure sitting out on the porch, waiting for him; he suddenly got up and went in, leaving the door open for him to follow. Alexander sighed deeply and entered the house, heading for the library, where he knew Thomas was.

“Thomas,” he murmured, closing the door behind him, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me out there –

“What the fuck were you thinking, Alexander?” Thomas roared – shit, he was really angry, he almost never swore – “you punched a senator, without an apparent reason, in front of a crowd! If I didn’t talked Burr through after you left, I would expect him to challenge you for a duel first thing tomorrow”

“He doesn’t have the guts to do it, believe me. In any case, that wouldn’t have been a problem, I know how to defend my honour”

“Are you willing to die on such a stupid quarrel?” Thomas was out of himself, “I thought better of your intellect”

“And what do you know about defending your honour, Jefferson? You never needed to fight for anything”

“That’s not true –

“For some of them out there I’m still the immigrant, the bastard son – come on, even _you_ called me that once”

“I’m sorry, ok? But now you are the fuckin’ Treasury Secretary of the nation – Christ, Alexander – what were you thinking, fighting like a jealous lad?”

“Burr was asking for it”

“What if he was? It’s Aaron Burr, _bon dieu_ , the man is only waiting for a chance to sling mud at you, and you act so irresponsibly?” Thomas was still yelling, but his eyes also showed some concern, “what if he begins to have suspects about the two of us? Madison’s already understood that something’s going on – what if you fall ill again because you were supposed to rest, but you’re fighting with people on the street instead? What if someone tells your wife you were punching Burr in front of my house today?”

“I know, dammit Thomas, stop,” Alexander shouted back, feeling terribly guilty, “It was stupid and reckless – shit, I wasn’t myself, ok?”

“I could see that,” Thomas murmured sarcastically.

"It’d never happened to me before, I know I’m very touchy, but I’ve never reacted so violently – press excluded,” he cast an irritated look at Thomas’s raised eyebrow and carried on, “it's just... when I saw you and Burr acting so friendly, without having to hide your relationship to the world, I felt jealous and lonely. Think of it, I've been my own man for my whole life, I always stand alone for myself in every discussion; and now that I finally find someone, that someone has to be my worst enemy, the one person I cannot even pretend to be friend with. I have to sneak in and out of your house like a criminal, while Burr… he can come here and eat your stupid macaroni and cheese whenever he wants”

A short silence followed Alexander’s confession – Thomas felt his heart melting, but he couldn’t give in so easily, Alexander had to understand why he’d reacted like that.

“I know the situation is not easy love,” Thomas maintained an unemotional tone, still looking coolly at Alexander when the latter glanced up at his face with apologetic eyes, and went on, “but we’re in this together, and we agreed it would be better for everyone if we kept pretending to hate each other”

“I know –

“But I think that you acted like that today because you still haven’t sort out your feelings, and maybe we need to talk,” he handed _Il Principe_ and all the letters to Alexander, looking at him with loving but resolute eyes, “what do you think?”

Alexander took the letters with trembling hands, the pain so vivid on his face when he saw Laurens’s handwriting, and at the same time – Thomas noticed with a pang of jealousy – a softness in his blue eyes that he’d never seen before.

“Yes,” he whispered, “yes, I need to tell you about John”

They talked for hours, finally opening up to each other – Alexander frankly told him about Laurens and the feelings they’d had shared; then he went on, confessing him the whole story of the affair he’d had with James Reynolds, how he’d surrendered to his needs after so many years, and how they blackmailed him for months. Thomas told him about Martha – that was something he’d never done before with anyone – and showed him a miniature portrait he had of her; however, to Alexander’s utter dismay, he didn’t have any letter to show him, since he’d burned everything after her death. Alexander cried a lot, he wept for his lost love, finally letting him go, clinging to Thomas’s chest not to fall into pieces. Thomas held him for hours, caressing his hair and lulling him slowly while Alex cried his heart out, kissing him softly when he looked up at him with his sad and lost eyes.

“You know, I told Martha that I can’t live without love anymore,” Thomas whispered when Alexander eventually went quiet, “and I’m ready to swear to John that I’ll take care of you, if you’ll let me”

“Oh, John would have hated you, he was so possessive of me,” Alexander surprised himself giggling, “but right now, I think he would be happy to know that someone loves me as he did”

“How do you –

“Yeah, do you think I haven’t noticed how you look at me, Mr Jefferson?” he teased.

Thomas smiled and kissed him gently – good god, Alexander never stopped astonishing him. He drew back a little and looked in his adoring eyes. They were sitting on the carpet in front of the fireplace, Thomas’s back leaning against the couch, and Alexander comfortably curled between his legs, his head resting on Thomas’s chest, or sometimes looking up at his face, silently asking for a kiss. For a quick moment, Thomas saw themselves from the outside, snuggling and talking, and felt the perfection of that moment.

“I love you, Alexander”

“I know”

“You little –

“I love you” Alexander whispered back, his face hid in Thomas’s chest, his muffled voice barely audible.

“Say it again”

“Are you deaf?”

“Please, _mon petit coeur_ , just once”

Alexander raised his head, looking right into Thomas’s eyes – ah, the endless prison of his heart - they were burning with so much love.

“I love you, Thomas”

* * *

“Eliza, honey, I’m home”

“Alexander,” Eliza’s voice came from the kitchen, “you’re late for supper hon”

“I’m sorry, you know Herc,” he approached his wife and kissed her on the cheek, “when he starts to talk it’s hard to make him stop,” he apologised, sitting at the table.

Eliza looked at him sideways, put a plate in front of him and quickly turned away to clean her hands on the apron that was hanging from the wall.

“So, you’ve been at the Mulligans's the whole day?”

“Yes, I told you before leaving I believe”

Eliza stood still for a moment, then abruptly turned toward him, her black eyes very grave.

“If you’ve been with him the whole time,” she asked slowly, “why did he came to visit you here today?”

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you probably already know, the letters between Hamilton and Laurens are real (I wish I could write like that!) these are the links to the original letters:  
> 1 - https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-03-02-0045  
> 2 - https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-02-02-0100  
> 3 - https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-02-02-0446  
> 4 - https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-02-02-0860
> 
> "Publius" is the name Hamilton used sometimes to publish his articles in the newspaper (he also published "The Federalist Papers" under this pseudonym); other times he used "A.B." (initials for Aaron Burr), especially when he wrote stuff that might be risky for his reputation... he was a genius.


	16. Chapter 16

It was raining outside. Thomas glanced darkly through the windows, looking at the restless puddles on the street, and shivered. He took his elegant umbrella instead of the walking stick for a change – he’d be going by carriage anyway – and sighed deeply, gathering the strength to make it for the night. He really didn’t want to do it, but there was no choice. After one of the best days together, after confessing their feelings to each other, Alexander had disappeared – Thomas had sent him letters and tried to talk with him at work, but Hamilton seemed to avoid him as well as he could. He’d been on the point of writing a very compromising letter, asking Alexander to renew his feelings for him, or to release him from the golden jail of love by telling him not to hope for his affection anymore; but, in the end, he’d hesitated before sending it – he’d been afraid something wasn’t right and decided to wait another day before surrendering to his despair. He’d blessed his hesitation a hundred of times, since the very day he’d been about to send the letter to Alexander, he’d received a note from him.

 _Dear Thomas –_ it was already odd that he’d called him by his first name _– I’m afraid I’ve used the wrong excuse at the wrong moment, and my wife has accused me of cheating on her. I’ve tried to ease her mind but in the last days she’d been very distressed by her suspicions, and so I’ve told her about our innocent friendship – and that we are hiding from the public eye only for the benefit of our nation. She’s been very relieved to know it, but also very confused by the news, and so she has asked me to invite you here for supper in order to know you better, since I’ve explained her the importance of your friendship for me. I actually think she only wants to be sure that I’m not seeing another woman. I’m very sorry to ask you this, but it’s the only way I can continue seeing you without making my dear wife upset – will you come?_

_Please burn the letter as soon as you read it – even a hint of our friendship could be dangerous if read by malicious eyes._

It hadn’t been signed – another precautionary measure to avoid raising unwanted questions. Thomas had been very nervous about the dinner, but since he hadn’t find any other way to convince Eliza of Alexander’s loyalty – well, he hadn’t cheat on her with another _woman_ anyway – he had halfheartedly accepted their invitation for dinner. That’s why he was standing on his doorstep at five o’ clock on a Sunday evening, convincing himself to take the first step and go to his lover’s house to dine with him and his wife.

When he arrived, he caught a glimpse of Alexander’s very anxious face peeping from the windows, and less than a minute later, the green-dressed man opened the door with an uneasy air, his back too stiffen to be natural.

“Hi,” Thomas whispered from outside the door, smiling a loving smile.

“Mr Jefferson, sir,” Alexander greeted him awkwardly, shaking his hand – his palms were sweating.

“Mr Hamilton,” he answered politely, and added softly, only for Alex to hear, “calm down, love, it’ll be fine”

“I’m sorry for dragging you here –

“I love you”

Alexander smiled at last, and let him enter, taking his coat and leading him into the small dining room, where Eliza warmly greeted him.

“Mr Jefferson,” she seemed relieved beyond measure, “I’m so happy to see that you and my husband have finally buried the hatchet”

“Mrs Hamilton, you’re lovely as ever”

“Oh, please, take a seat,” she giggled and went in the kitchen to make some final arrangements for the dinner.

“You should stop making eyes at my wife”

“Are you jealous, Hamilton?” he joked, adding low, “it’s not the wife I want though”

“Ha! Jealous of you? Why would I?” Alexander blew him a kiss from the other side of the table and sat, “would you like some wine? I’m afraid our cooking is not enough _à la française_ for your taste”

“I’m sure it’ll be delicious,” Thomas grinned while raising his glass of wine, “a toast to our _friendship_ ,” and winked.

Eliza returned in the room, followed by a very minute maid, who served them the dinner and left them to enjoy the company. After the briefest moment of silence ever, Alexander started to talk about anything that came up to his mind, telling Thomas and Eliza some funny stories from the days of the war, or asking Thomas questions about the years he’d spent in France – anything to avoid the silence.

“Absolutely, France is way more fashionable than England, I can assure you,” Thomas was answering to one of his queries, he seemed comfortable and confident as usual, “and, Mrs Hamilton, the dresses and the adornments wore by French women are definitely _avant-garde_ if compared to the ones used here,” he turned to Eliza, who seemed very curious about it.

“You know that Monsieur de Lafayette and I are almost like brothers, right?” Alexander mocked him, “you won’t impress us with your stories about French ladies, I think Lafayette has exhaustively told us everything on that topic”

Elisa looked at him smiling, as if she’d suddenly remembered a funny moment they’d shared some time before – Thomas felt again that strange possessiveness, the desire to take Alexander away with him and have the time to build their own memories instead of sharing him with a wife, regardless how sweet she was.

“Would you stop looking at my wife like that?” Alexander scolded him, and Thomas realised he’d been staring at Eliza and she was blushing a little.

“I’m sorry,” he smiled politely, “I was still wondering how can such an angelic woman marry a scoundrel like you”

“Excuse me?!”

“You heard me, Hamilton,” he challenged him happily, raising his glass again, “let’s make another toast, to the beautiful Schuyler sisters – you know, I had the pleasure of meeting your sister Angelica in Europe, she’s such an elegant woman”

They talked a lot about Angelica – it was a safe topic and all the three of them were quite affectionate towards her. Alexander looked askance at him a couple of times, but they spent an enjoyable evening, despite the situation.

“Do you play, Mr Jefferson?”

“I’m not really good, but I can play some violin and cello”

“Bullshit, he’s very good at it,” Alexander talked before thinking.

“Have you listened to him playing?” Eliza sounded a bit surprised, “I haven’t imagined you two to be so close already”

“No, I’ve heard him just once, from the street,” Alexander quickly lied, “he was playing in front of the open window for everyone on the street to listen – show off.” Well, that wasn’t a complete lie.

“We only have a piano in here, I’m sorry,” she added timidly.

“Why don’t you play for us, if it isn’t too indelicate to ask you so”

“I’d love to – Alexander would you play a duet with me?”

Alex was taken aback by her request – he’d playing lots of duets with Thomas lately, and they used to joke about it, saying that their music was the only thing they could find some harmony in. He looked at Thomas, his face was unemotional – he’d put on the usual ‘Jefferson mask’ – and then back to his smiling wife.

“Of course, Betzy, whatever you want hon,” and sat at the piano next to her, turning his back to Thomas, who stood next to the fireplace with a glass of wine in his hand.

They started to play a duet from Mozart’s. Eliza, being more skilled than him, was able to fill up his shortcomings, and they played beautifully for some minutes. When the song ended, Eliza put her hand on Alexander’s, looking at him with her loving black eyes – silently telling him that she had forgiven him for his lies. Alexander smiled back at her, kissing her hand before turning to their guest.

“That was lovely,” something in Thomas’s voice was wrong – Eliza didn’t noticed it, but Alexander knew him too well to fail seeing jealousy in his hungry eyes.

“You’re too kind,” Eliza bowed slightly at him, “it has been a pleasure to have you with us tonight. If you gentlemen would excuse me now, I’m really tired and I wish to rest a bit”

Thomas bowed to her and his gaze followed her joyful figure as she headed upstairs and disappeared from their sight. Then, he slowly turned to Hamilton, raising an eyebrow at him – he was still standing next to the piano, holding his breath, waiting for him to say something. When Thomas didn’t, he hazarded a timid smile.

“Well, that wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Silence again. Thomas suddenly turned away from him and went to the door; but instead of going away, he closed it noiselessly.

“Do you know how much I wanted to kiss you in front of your wife, just to let her know that you’re mine?” he asked calmly.

“That would have been counter-productive, I guess,” Alexander giggled, blushing a bit.

Thomas smiled sadly and moved closer, opening his arms to welcome the smaller man into his warm embrace.

“Do you know what does this mean, right?” Alexander sighed happily and looked up at him with a contagious smile, “we can see each other whenever we want now, I don’t have to lie anymore”

“Yes, love,” Thomas took his time and gently kissed every inch of Alexander’s face – he’d been dying to do it for the whole night, “although, I’d been very difficult for me to stay here and watch you two playing together, you know,” he added, teasing Alexander, “ _tu es à moi, tu le sais, mon petit chou_?”

“Yes,” he moaned softly.

“So, maybe you could reward my efforts, and return the favour by coming to Monticello for Christmas,” Thomas finally proposed, without looking at him.

Alexander was speechless – was Thomas really asking him to spend the holidays together in Virginia? His perplexed look was readily misunderstood by Thomas –

“Only if you want to,” he added quickly, “I’ll understand if you –

“I’ll come,” Alexander almost yelled his answer, a note of excitement in his voice, “of course I want to, that’ll be wonderful”

“Shh, yes, now lower your voice,” Thomas laughed softly, “or your wife won’t be happy to find us like this”

“Yeah, right,” Alexander whispered back, a dreamy smile still on his face, “do you want another glass of wine?”

“You do know me then”

A couple of hours later they were sitting comfortably on the couch, Alexander’s head resting on Thomas’s knees, the empty bottle of wine forgotten on the table. Thomas was brushing Alexander’s hair with his fingers, speaking quietly in French, or humming lullabies that echoed in the sleeping house.

“Thomas?” Alexander drowsy voice called him.

“ _Oui, mon coeur_?”

“Let’s escape together”

“Yes love, and where do you want to go?”

“To Virginia first”

“Ah, if you come to Virginia you won’t go away,” Thomas looked in the distance, remembering the places he loved so much.

“Then we can go to France and change our names or something”

“And let Lafayette have his chances with you? Never,” he joked.

“Lafayette doesn't like men – wait, did you and him...?

“Well, _mon trésor_ , did you really think I've never had fun in France?”

“Whaaaaat? No, not with him!” Alex abruptly got up, almost falling out of dizziness.

“Come on, Alexander, things in France are different... they’re not so narrow-minded,” he sighed, “are you jealous or did you think I’ve never been with another man?”

Alexander muttered something unintelligible, frowning at him.

“Come here,” Thomas tried to make up, offering his hand to him.

Alexander stood for a second, and then took it, curling against Thomas again, but he was still bearing a grudge. Thomas put one finger under his chin, gently forcing him to raise his head and look up.

“You shouldn’t be jealous, Alexander, you’re the first person I’ve ever loved in many years”

At his words, Alexander’s eyes heated with love – and perhaps a bit of satisfaction, he threw himself at Thomas and kissed him deeply.

“I love you too, you shameless tomcat”

When he escorted Thomas to the door again, Alexander was quite tipsy and definitely happy. He looked at Jefferson's unsteady shape while he walked towards his carriage, heavily sat inside and blew him a kiss – his bright smile lighting the darkness of the night. Alexander closed the door and leaned against it, still dazed by how well the night had gone. And now he couldn’t wait for Christmas to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Tu es à moi, tu le sais mon petit chou?" = "You're mine, do you know it sweetheart?"
> 
> And sooooo Alex and Thomas are going to spend their holidays together in Virginia! :D


	17. Chapter 17

As December approached, Alexander was more and more occupied with his manufacturing plan; he spent most of the time hidden in his study, surrounded by books about economics, politics and reports of the banks of England and France – and even some books written in Latin and Greek. Eliza knew that during his workaholic periods Alexander lived in his own world, following his own timetable, and so she tried to be happy by knowing that he was eating, even if he usually had dinner during the night, and was probably sleeping sometimes too. In October they’d had a couple of important Cabinet meetings in order to vote on some relevant details they had to include in the plan, but in the end it was always he and Washington who’d discussed the issues, since Jefferson had been firm in his opposition – he’d continued talking about the bucolic dream of an agricultural nation, without really considering the economic situation of the US. However, they’d had to collaborate for the foundation of the Mint, and it’d gone relatively well – even if Jefferson had won that fight and the Mint had become part of the State department, instead of being included in the Treasury’s. Therefore, most of November passed by with him buried under his books in his study, Eliza leaving him food on his desk without even speaking to him – he wouldn’t have acknowledged her presence anyway – and Thomas trying to stop him from delivering his report to the Congress. Despite all their efforts, Madison and Jefferson eventually received notice from Washington that the Secretary had handed in the plans during the first week of December. Thomas felt both disappointed and relieved – yes, they’d lost, but he would finally see Alexander again without fighting or discussing about politics.

With the manufacturing plan out of his mind, he started organizing their journey to Monticello, sending some letters to make the right arrangements.

“Thomas, are you going home for the holidays?” one day, Madison’s gloomy voice interrupted his flow of thoughts while he was trying to remember how many bottles of wine he’d last ordered from France.

“Yes, I can’t wait to see my granddaughter,” he mumbled distractedly, “Patsy and Tom will be happy to have some people home for Christmas”

“Is it someone else coming?” he inquired, trying not to sound too nosy.

“Oh, no, I meant –” Thomas realised his mistake, “it will be just me, but Polly is also coming of course. We’re not having a formal dinner as usual, it will be only the four of us, plus little Anne”

“I’m going home too, perhaps we can travel together – I could use some company”

“I don’t know if I can, James,” he made up another lie at once, “I have to stop to Philadelphia and I’d like to visit a couple of friends there before carrying on to Monticello – I’m sorry”

“No need, we’ll see each other there”

“Yes, great,” Thomas smiled at his friend – it probably hadn’t been a good idea to invite his political enemy, and lover, to a place filled with people who wanted him dead – Hamilton was particularly known in Virginia for his stands against slavery, and now was also fingered as the villain who’d raised the taxed on whiskey. Madison adding himself to the equation was the final icing on the cake. Great.

* * *

“Alexander, wake up,” Thomas called him, a note of joy in his voice, “come on, we’ve arrived”

Alexander groaned sleepily and rubbed his eyes, trying to adapt them to the bright light of that sunny December day – the sun’s rays reflected on the thick white snow, hurting his delicate blue irises. He shivered and got out of the carriage, looking around with an amazed stare: in front of him there was a magnificent building made of red bricks and white railings, the main door was towered by a small arcade with four columns, and elegant windows decorated the wide façade of the house.

“I think your jaw’s just dropped somewhere in the snow” Thomas joked, amused and delighted by his reaction, “you know, I designed it. Come on, let’s go inside, it’s freezing”

“Yeah, let me take my bag first”

“No need, love, it will be taken care of”

“Oh, right,” – Alexander had completely forgotten that Thomas had slaves at Monticello, but he didn’t move from his spot anyway, looking at his luggage – “listen, Thomas, I don’t want other people to do it if they’re not paid for it”

“Look, we talked about that, you knew where you were going, right?” Thomas frowned at him, “so now you can either spend the rest of your days here crying about it – not that it’ll change anything, since people will work for you anyway – or you can enjoy these days together and continue our never-ending fights on it after the holidays”

“You’re such a dick!” Hamilton hissed through gritted teeth, while striding towards the entrance without looking at him.

Thomas followed him without adding another word, but watching him closely to catch every change in his countenance. He smiled slightly when they entered the lobby and Alexander looked around with an astonished face; the hall was quite big and filled with paintings and marble busts – Voltaire’s was looking at them with his stony eyes from the main door, while Thomas’s was on the right side of the room. Some faded maps, which plotted every detail of countries from different corners of the world, were hanging on the walls, and the fireplace had been already lit, spreading a very inviting warmth from the left side of the bright room. Above them, a white-railed balcony revealed some glimpses of the second-floor rooms.

“Do you want me to guide you for a quick tour?” Thomas asked happily, “I’d love you to see my study and the library”

At the word ‘library’ Hamilton’s eyes lit again and he nodded at Thomas, trying not to give away his enthusiasm – and miserably failing, since a broad grin was already spreading on his face again.

Thomas led him to the left wing of the house, were the library was, and waited patiently while Alexander looked at his immense collection of books for at least half an hour – he owned around nine thousands of them, but he’d taken his favourite ones to New York with him. Then he dragged him away from the library to his study, eager to show him his polygraph and some other objects he’d there.

“Oh my goodness!” Alexander sat at the desk and suddenly grabbed on to the table and stood up, a surprised look on his face “what is the problem with this chair?”

“It’s a revolving chair,” Thomas answered proudly, “I invented it”

“What does it do?” Alex slowly sat again, still a bit suspicious of it.

“It swivels,” Thomas laughed, “it’s very useful when you’re working on different stuff, you don’t have to twist around and – Alexander stop spinning it, you’re going to break either the chair or some bones”

“All right, all right – wow, you are such a pain in the ass sometimes”

Thomas rolled his eyes and sighed – he’d chosen his own hell by himself, after all.

“Wait a minute, why do you have a bed in the hallway between the study and the bedroom?”

“It’s not a hallway, that’s here,” Thomas pointed at the right way, “it’s an alcove - look, you can close the folding screen if you want, so that you can have light and air, or privacy,” and winked at him, making him blush, “and then it’s practical. I get up on the one side and I’m in my bedroom, the other one and I’m ready for my working day”

“Oh god,” Alexander laughed, entering the room and looking around, “anyway, you’re a rich fancy smart-ass”

Thomas ignored him, too thrilled to argue, and pushed him back in the main hall.

“Your room is here,” and opened another door, showing an octagonal elegantly furnished room.

“I thought we would sleep together,” Alexander’s voice betrayed his disappointment.

“Of course, _mon coeur_ , but we don’t want other people to know about it”

“Yeah,” he sighed again, sitting on the bed, “right”

“What’s wrong?” Thomas cocked his head to the side, looking lovingly at him, as if to impress a mental picture of him in Monticello.

“I’m just tired, I think”

“You slept the whole journey”

“It’s just that I thought we would have been free to stay together here,” he looked at the floor, abashed.

“Alex, you know I’d love it more than anything else,” Thomas sat next to him, circling his shoulders with his arm and kissing him lightly, “but we have to be careful. I promise you we’ll be alone most of the time, ok?”

“Yeah”

“Hey – look at me,” he moved, kneeling in front of him and staring at him straight in the eyes, “I love you. I know it’s frustrating sometimes, but we’re going to face everything together, I won’t leave you unless you ask me to”

Alexander blinked in confusion, he was actually starting to feel a bit dazed by the whole situation – he was in Virginia, where almost every citizen hated him as hell, in the house of his lover, which was full of slaves, and Thomas Jefferson was in front of him, professing his love –

“Why would I ever ask you to leave me?”

Thomas shrugged and got up, taking Alexander’s hand in his and pulling him closer. He leaned a bit and then stopped right before kissing him, his face just an inch from Alexander’s.

“What?”

“I love this moment,” Thomas whispered, his lips nearly brushing his lover’s, “the second before I kiss you, your eyes soften and your body relaxes completely, have you noticed that?”

“Are you trying to shame me to death?”

“I thought nothing could,” Thomas laughed and kissed him at last.

It was a strange sensation to kiss someone who wasn’t Martha in that house – but his mind didn’t have the time to linger too long on that thought, since Alexander grabbed him by his waistcoat and almost threw him on the bed. Then, he climbed on top of him and kissed him again, eagerly, as if his restraints had been left back in NYC and he was finally free to let himself go, his blue eyes hungrily looking into Thomas’s. In response, the taller man grabbed a handful of Alexander’s hair and deepened their kiss, relishing the thought of having Alexander’s unrestrained love all for himself at last. They’d probably lost track of time, and a knock at the door made Alexander jump on his feet in a second, as he tried to fix his ruffled hair into a ponytail, while Thomas sat on the bed in a messy pose, his clothes crumpled as well as the bed sheets. Two men carried Alexander’s luggage in the room and exited without a word.

“Tea?” Thomas asked, still breathing heavily.

“Do you have something stronger?”

“Of course, _mon cher_ , let’s go fetch some bottles of wine in the cellar”

A couple of hours later, they were in the dining room, laughing at the memories of their first meetings while eating chicken, cheese, turnips, beans and some strange deep green vegetables (“those are broccoli, I cultivate them here, they’re from Italy”) and even Mexican peppers.

“I thought you were a complete asshole”

“You don’t say!” Thomas snickered, “I think I might have noticed it when you started yelling at me the first night we met, at Washington’s party”

“Yes, and you deserved it, since you were being so full of yourself, showing off that stupid smile of yours and offering everyone your unwanted opinions”

“Oh, come on love, we both know you were already falling for me,” Thomas teased, “you couldn’t stop looking at me, Madison noticed that”

“What?” Alexander was shocked, “I was only trying to figure you out, I didn’t even know you, you moron”

“Of course”

“And then we meet again outside work and I catch you flirting with my wife, I knew you were a womanizer but –

“Who says I’m a womanizer?”

“Everyone knows you broke your wrist while trying to make an impression on a French girl,” Alexander mocked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, right – said French girl was actually Lafayette, but the result was the same I’m afraid”

“You’re a horrible person”

“Says the one who insulted me _in_ the Cabinet, then insulted me _out_ of the Cabinet, and two days later came to my house asking for my help”

“It was for a greater g –

“And in the meantime, he was also stealing my books from the library”

Alexander chuckled, reaching out over the table to grab and open the third bottle of wine of the night.

“Wait, I’ve got a surprise dessert for you and I don’t want you to pass out before trying it”

“I’m not going to pass out,” Alexander rolled his eyes, but put the bottle back on the table.

“Voilà,” Thomas uncovered two cups of a creamy and very inviting dessert.

“Is that ice-cream?”

“Have you already tried it?” Thomas was a bit disappointed, he was hoping to impress him with it.

“No, never, but I knew you used to have it as a dessert for your dinners – even though I was never invited,” Alexander faked a hurt face and then smiled, “let’s try it”

It was delicious. Alexander ate two cups of vanilla ice-cream and stole some spoonfuls from Thomas’s, earning some spoon blows on his hand and Thomas’s endless complaints about his bottomless stomach.

“You stole half of it,” Thomas lamented, moving closer with a tantalizing smile, “what about paying me back with a kiss?”

“I only took a couple of spoons from yours!”

“A kiss or I’m taking back your second ice-cream”

“Ok, fine!” Alexander stood up, moving out from Thomas’s range with the glass of ice-cream safely in his hands, and ate it quickly – his brain was freezing but it was so fuckin’ good.

“You know I actually date you only for the food, right?”

“Mh mh, now come here, you bottomless pit”

Alexander happily sat on Thomas’s lap, kissing him with his mouth still cold and enjoying Thomas’s taste mixed with the vanilla flavoured ice-cream. Without breaking the kiss, Thomas lifted him gently to make Alexander face him, and the blue-eyed man hugged him with both his arms and legs, moving closer and running his fingers through Thomas’s fluffy hair, pulling a little. Thomas instinctively growled and drew back a moment, his eyes flashing with lust; he kissed Alexander’s neck, from the collarbone to his ear, earning a moan from him.

“Thomas”

“ _Oui_ , my love?”

“Let’s go try that fancy bed of yours, shall we?”

Thomas stood up at once, carrying him in his arms and kissing him passionately, while Alexander clung to him, his legs fastened around his waist, his hands still grabbing his hair. Hoping that no one was crossing the hall in that very moment, Thomas carried Alexander like that to his room and slammed the door behind him with a kick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! I hope you liked the chapter, thank you for leaving kudos and comments, it really makes me happy to know that the story is so appreciated <3
> 
> Anyway, I spent half the day wandering around Monticello in a virtual tour, I leave the link for you if you're interested: http://explorer.monticello.org/virtualtour/?_ga=2.113636551.1572994982.1608309420-848780245.1605478710  
> And yeah, Thomas is a dick about slavery, but he did own slaves and so I didn't want to pretend he was better than he actually was.


	18. Chapter 18

The following morning Alex woke up in an empty bed. It was completely dark and he tried to get up on the wrong side, slamming into the folding screen and swearing. He opened the curtains, letting the sun shine in and blinking a couple of times – it was particularly cold that morning, he noticed – but then he looked down and closed the curtains at once.

“Shit,” he started searching around the bed for his clothes, then suddenly remembered that he’d throw them all around the room, and so he peeked from the bed curtains to be sure that all the doors were closed and got off the bed, entering the chilly air, to retrieve them and dress.

After stealing Thomas’s hairbrush to comb his hair into a ponytail, he eventually went to seek Thomas, checking in the study first and then heading to the main hall. He was about to open the door of his own room to fetch something thicker to wear, when he smelled an amazing perfume coming from the dining room and immediately changed his route, peeping from the door. Thomas was sitting at the table, distractedly drinking a cup of tea and reading some letters, his reading glasses on and a frown wrinkling his beautiful face.

“Morning,” Alex joined him at the table, looking voraciously at all the dished scattered on it – there were tea, coffee, ham, eggs, butter, muffins and fresh bread.

“Good morning love,” Thomas put the papers aside and smiled at him, “did you sleep well?”

“I slept too much I think, what time is it?”

“It’s about nine”

“When did you get up?”

“I always raise with the sun,” he winked, “even if today it’s been very difficult to leave the bed”

“What a softie,” he mocked, “is there any ice-cream for breakfast?”

“No, and you’d better hurry cause we’ve to go buy some plants to decorate the house”

Alexander quickly gulped his black coffee and stuffed a whole muffin in his mouth right in front of Jefferson’s shocked eyes – the latter murmured something about savages and resumed his letters in an irritated fashion.

* * *

“No, you can’t put it there like that!”

Thomas was standing in the backyard of Monticello, in front of the greenhouse’s entrance, with his long arms crossed on his chest and a concerned stare on his face. Alexander had just climbed the nearest window and was now stretching towards the door frame to put some mistletoe above the entrance. 

“Shut up and help me,” Alexander hit Thomas’s head with the mistletoe, leaving some leaves and berries on his hair, “you can tie it there, you giant”

“It’s you who’re short as a gnome, ouch –

“It seems like I’m tall enough to punch you in the guts though”

“You are a barbarian,” Thomas laughed, “I shouldn’t let you stay in the house, I’ll have someone prepare a bed in the stable for you”

“And again – shut up and help me tie this mistletoe with the holly up there”

“Are you making a kissing bush?” Thomas gasped dramatically, “oh my – Alexander Hamilton, are you seeking for more excuses to kiss me?”

“As if! You’d never kiss me outside you room anyway,” Alexander tried to make it sound like a joke, but his voice came out infinitely sad.

Thomas, who was having his own bit of troubles with the twine, stopped at once and looked down at him with an unreadable face, standing like there for a minute.

“Ok, come here, I’ll kiss you right now, right here”

“What if someone walks by?”

“Do I seem to fuckin’ care?”

In fact, Thomas was bluffing – the sole thought of being discovered by anyone freaked him out, but he didn’t want to see Alexander like that.

“Anyway, we should hung the kissing bush first,” Alexander climbed on the wall again to reach the holly, but the windowsill was frosty and he didn’t place his right foot very well and –

“Shit,” he shrieked while Thomas’s arms grabbed him and they both fell on the snowy ground, the mistletoe landing everywhere around them.

“If you were so eager to throw yourself in my arms, you should’ve said it,” Thomas laughed, rolling a bit to find himself of top and looking down at Alexander – his hair was covered in snow and he was so beautiful with his cheeks blushing for the cold and his blue eyes matching the cool colours of the winter.

They kissed like that, on the snow, not caring about the cold and their wet clothes, nor about the mistletoe and the ivy that the wind was scattering all around, nor even about the danger of being seen by someone. They kissed with all the passion and the love they wanted to show to the world but they had to hide every day. They kissed and everything seemed still for a moment.

“Thomas!” a shocked voice came from behind them, “What is the meaning of this?”

Thomas’s head jerked back abruptly, but he didn’t need to look to know whose voice was that.

“James, wait –

“Fuck,” Alexander hissed, while Thomas got up and followed Madison, who was already striding away from them.

He remained there, the fear paralysing him on the ground, and listened to Thomas and Madison’s voices shouting right behind the corner of the house, without distinguishing their words. Then, they went silent and Alexander heard the clopping of a horse that rushed away. He eventually gathered the strength to get up and entered the house again, searching for Thomas, but he was nowhere to be found. He went upstairs, peeking in the old nursery room and one of the small bedrooms of the second floor, and finally checking the cuddy – maybe he’d only gone grabbing some dry clothes. Thomas was there, standing in front of a line of dresses and coats, turning his back to the entrance; his hands were trembling violently, and he seemed to be searching something in a feverish way.

“Thomas,” Alexander called softly.

Jefferson turned with a jump, looking at him with tearful eyes, and Alex gasped, immediately walking next to him.

“I came here to change my clothes, but I can’t choose – I can’t choose what to wear”

“Thomas calm down, it’s just clothes, no need to cry for it”

“I don’t know what to do,” he sobbed, crouching down with his hands in his hair, “I – I can’t breathe”

Alexander felt a pang right in his heart at that sight, he’d never seen Thomas like that, he was always so confident and had everything under control. He felt tears tickling the corner of his eyes but pushed them back at once – he couldn’t cry, he had to be strong for Thomas as he’d always been there for him.

“Shh, look at me,” Alexander gently took Thomas’s face in his hands, kissing his forehead, “listen to my voice and focus on breathing, take some deep breaths with me, all right?”

He put Thomas’s hand on his own chest and breathed deeply and evenly for a while, whispering encouragingly at Thomas and never breaking eye contact with him. The panic in Thomas’s eyes slowly faded away and his face relaxed a bit as he started to breathe with him and focused on Alexander’s heartbeat under the palm of his hand. For several minutes he’d only been able to repeat “I can’t breathe” like a mantra, but then he focused on Alexander’s low and reassuring voice and he finally went quiet; the tears dried on his face, and his hand eventually freed his messy hair and interlaced its cold fingers with Alexander’s. Yet, he didn’t stop trembling – he was freezing. Alexander took one heavy coat from a drawer and wrapped him in it, hugging him tight.

“I’m going to prepare you a hot bath, but you have to wait next to the fire or you’ll freeze to death,” Alex said quietly, “can you walk?”

Thomas nodded and let Alexander lead him to his room. Hamilton sat him in a chair in front of the fireplace and wrapped him into another blanket, casting worried glances at him, and he finally left to prepare the bathtub. He didn’t want to ask slaves to do it, and so he placed four huge pots full of water on different fireplaces around the house, and then he carried them, one by one, upstairs, where the bathtub was, pouring the hot water in there. It was a long and tiring work and he was freezing too, the good thing was that he’d heated up a bit by carrying all the pots up and down the stairs.

He went back to Thomas, who was still numbly looking into the fire, his face emotionless and tired.

“ _Allez mon cher, je vais prendre soin de toi_ ,” Alexander whispered to him, and lead him upstairs.

The hot water shook Thomas out of his state at last, and he made some space for Alexander to join him into the bathtub (“no objections, you’re shivering”).

“James didn’t want to listen to me,” he finally confessed to Alex, “he told me that I’m a ‘filthy federalist spy’ and that I’m betraying our nation as well as our friendship”

“Ouch”

“Yes – he said that Martha would have been heartbroken to see me like that,” his voice broke again.

“That’s not true, Thomas, and you know it,” Alexander kissed him softly, “she loved you and I’m sure that she would prefer to have you happy rather than alone and miserable”

“I know,” Thomas sighed, “but how could he say such a horrible thing, he’d known me all my life, he knows I would never betray Martha’s memory, nor my beliefs”

“Of course he knows it, he was shocked, that’s all”

“I worked harder than ever this autumn to stop your manufacturing plans, and he calls me a spy?!”

“OK, now you’re really risking death by drowning”

Thomas chuckled and hugged him, pulling him closer.

“We can love each other and have opposite ideals, can’t we?”

“Yes,” Alexander rolled his eyes, “but we should explain that to Madison, I don’t think it’s an obvious thing for everyone”

“What if he exposes us?”

“I’ve been his friend before being his enemy, and I don’t think he’s capable of it – that would mean to sentence both of us to death”

“But he feels personally betrayed this time, we’ve always told everything to each other”

“You Republicans are a bunch of weirdos”

“You federalists shouldn’t talk about weirdos since you’ve got John Adams among you,” Thomas playfully pulled a lock of Alexander’s silky hair while washing them.

“Ugh gross! I don’t want to think about him while I’m in the bathtub”

“I think that if we give James some time to think it through, he’ll eventually listen to us,” Thomas went on, ignoring him, “I’ll write him a letter first thing tomorrow, we should solve this problem as soon as possible and –

“What?”

“I’m sorry love, but we’ll have to be more careful outside. Today we made a stupid mistake and we’re already very lucky if James doesn’t denounce us, but it could have gone worse,” he shivered at the thought, “what if my daughter happened to visit and found us like that?”

Alexander sighed deeply and stepped out of the tub to dry himself.

“Alexander, listen to me,” Thomas followed him, picking some clean towels, “the world you want to live in doesn’t exist, we will never be free to openly love each other”

“I know”

“And then, it’s you who have a wife, not me – what do you want to do, leave her and your children and elope with me?”

“No, I –

“And we’re political opponents, we can’t afford to be friendly with each other, you heard James, he thinks I’m corrupted now”

“I know, Thomas, goddamn it,” Alexander burst out, “so what?”

“So you have to be honest with me and tell me whether this is enough for you or not,” Thomas looked very serious, “because it is enough for me, Alex. Actually, it’s way more than anything I’ve ever imagined”

“I love you”

“And so do I,” Thomas grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to look up at him, “is that enough for you?”

Alexander was speechless for a couple of minutes. He observed the face of the man he loved, memorizing every detail of his countenance and… he suddenly remembered Thomas crying on the floor of his closet, Thomas needing him to breathe while his hands were clinging to him in a silent call for help; he remembered Thomas’s desperate eyes the first time they kissed and he’d asked him for time to think; or the time when he'd ridden the whole night to stay with him when he was sick. Once again, he lost himself in Thomas’s dark eyes, feeling all the love they expressed him with every single glance. He realized that he could never live without him anymore, no matter the price.

“Yes,” he said slowly, “it doesn’t mean that I’m completely happy with it, but I’d rather hide my feelings forever, than spend the rest of my life without you”

Alexander stood on his tiptoes to claim his kiss and Thomas tenderly took his face in his hands and pressed his lips on Alexander’s.

“You’re the most precious thing I’ve got, Alexander, I don’t want to lose you”

“You won’t,” he sighed, “let’s go talk to Madison”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Allez mon cher, je vais prendre soin de toi" = "Come on, sweetheart, I'll take care of you"
> 
> Ok, so it happened, they've been discovered...what do you think Madison's reaction will be?  
> I hope I'll be able to post a Christmas-themed chapter in time for Christmas, but tomorrow it's my birthday and so I'll only have three days left to write it, I swear I'll try!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's my Christmas-themed chapter!  
> I'm sorry but you'll have to wait for next chapter to know how it'll go with Madison... I hope you'll enjoy this one for now!  
> Merry Christmas everyone! <3
> 
> P.S. when they talk about whiskey, remember that in 1791 there was the 'Whiskey Rebellion' and it basically happened because of Hamilton's whiskey tax.

_Dear Thomas, despite being very shocked by my last discovery, the honesty of your last letter made me inclined to meet with you and your friend as soon as possible. I can imagine why you decided to hold such a secret from me, but I’ll need some important explanations from both of you – I remind you that we’d discovered a very grave piece of news about him and I can’t turn a blind eye on it. I am sorry to say that I’ll be quite busy for the following days. I therefore invite you – and your friend – to my house for the traditional ball I host for the New Year’s eve. We can talk about our business after dinner, if this arrangement is comfortable for you. James_

Thomas breathed a sigh of relief at the content of James’s brief note. A couple of days before, he’d sent him a long letter trying to explain the circumstances of his relationship with Hamilton, without making names or details explicit – they couldn’t risk to write everything down, so he’d asked Madison to meet face to face in order to explain everything to him; fortunately, James seemed to have accepted his olive branch.

“Alexander,” Thomas called the man who was sitting next to the fire, deeply absorbed in a book.

He didn’t even notice Thomas coming next to him.

“Hamilton!”

“What,” he jumped on the spot, “when did you get here?”

“I came back, like, twenty minutes ago – you even said ‘hi’ to me”

“Oh well, I didn’t notice,” Alex beamed at him and Thomas forgot about everything for a moment, “is that a letter from Madison?”

“Oh, right,” Thomas gave him the paper and sat next to him, placing one arm around Alexander’s shoulders and smiling when the latter automatically leaned his head on Thomas’s chest, his sharp eyes quickly scanning the note.

“That’s great, not only we’re not going to jail, but we’re also invited to a party!”

“I love your optimism, but if James isn’t happy with our explanation we’ll have a very horrible New Year’s party, you know that, right?”

“We’ll talk him through it,” he winked, “aren’t we the best speakers in the whole Cabinet’s staff?”

“I guess you have a point,” Thomas smiled at his partner’s good mood, “you seem happy”

“Why, I’m surrounded by thousands of books, I can eat ice cream every night and I have a beautiful boyfriend I can make fun of,” he joked, “and tomorrow’s Christmas!”

“Did you just say I’m your boyfriend?”

“Who said it is you?”

“Well, you said ‘beautiful’, didn’t you?”

Alexander laughed and threw the crumpled note at Thomas, who dodged it and blocked his arms with a hug, still waiting for an answer. When Alexander refused to speak up, Thomas started tickling him mercilessly, nimbly avoiding a punch and a couple of kicks from a very belligerent Hamilton.

“OK, I’ll talk,” he eventually cried, laughing breathlessly and raising his hands in surrender, “yeah, I called you my boyfriend, whichever name should I use to define us?”

Thomas looked down at the little man, who was facing him with a challenging stare, perfectly ready to argue even on how to define their relationship, and felt infinitely lucky of having that hothead as his boyfriend.

“No, you’re right, that’s perfect,” he hugged him again, hiding his face in Alexander’s hair and sighing happily, “having you here is the best Christmas’s gift ever”

Alexander drew away from him with a very solemn stare and got up.

“Wait, that’s not the only present,” he blushed, “in fact, I’ve got a gift for you”

“Really?” Thomas smiled his brightest smile, he wasn’t expecting Alexander to buy a Christmas present for him.

“Yes, and since tomorrow we’re going to your daughter’s house, do you want to open it now?”

“Yes, love, I can’t wait to see it”

Alexander smiled, his ears still red – he wasn’t used to all that mushy boyfriend stuff – and rushed to his room to fetch Thomas’s present. When he returned, Thomas was adding some logs to the fire, and a dumbwaiter had appeared next to him, covered with a cloth.

Alexander stood awkwardly in front of the couch and waited for Thomas to sit before showing him the item he was hiding behind his back. Thomas’s hands were shaking when he removed the decorated cloth that wrapped it; it was an elegant walking stick, the wood finely decorated and his initials engraved on its golden handle. He admired the beautiful object for several minutes, noticing every detail of the carving, and then looked up at Alexander, speechless.

“I think you hated my ‘fancy’ walking sticks,” was the first thing that came up to his mind.

“Err, that’s right,” Alexander shrugged, “but in the last year I’ve discovered that you’re more than what you show in public, and I learned to love every single aspect of your personality – even your tasteless way of dressing – and I thought that it would have been nice to give you something that reminds you of me, even when we’re in public and you can’t hold my hand”

Thomas tried to say something but was tongue-tied, his eyes suddenly filled up with tears.

“You don’t like it?” Alexander asked anxiously, “I’ve had it made in France, but I can send it back if –

He couldn’t finish the sentence because he was literally tackled by Thomas and found himself on the ground, Jefferson’s lips on his.

“I love it,” he managed to croak, his voice holding the sweetest note Alex had ever heard.

Alexander was surprised beyond words by Thomas’s reaction – it was usually him who was exaggerated in his displays of emotions, not Jefferson, but in the last days he’d discovered a lot more of Thomas than he’d even seen in NYC. He seemed freer and happier.

“It’s my turn now,” Thomas rose, offering his hand to Alexander, who got up in a jump.

“Yay, a gift for me,” he intoned joyfully, his shyness completely forgotten now that the deed was done.

Thomas chuckled and handed him a very small package, wrapped in the same cloth in which Alex had once received his waffles – the one with Thomas’s initials embroidered on a corner; Alexander slowly opened it, uncovering a wooden box (“Can I keep the handkerchief this time?” “ _Oui_ , it’s part of the gift”). The box held a beautiful quill whose extremity had a small metal item Alexander had never seen before. The feather was beautiful – probably swan’s – and the sharp tip was decorated with squiggles.

“Is it a quill?”

“Yes, with a steel nib attached,” Thomas added proudly, “it’s the latest invention in writing techniques, the nib is longer and sharper than a quill and it doesn’t wear out as quickly. You don’t have to sharpen it and the quality of writing is superior”

“Are you aware that I’ll kick your ass in the press with your very quill?”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect,” he took the tiny object in his hands with reverence, his wide eyes full of wonder, “can I try it?”

“Of course, _mon coeur_ , but I was thinking to drink something first,” Thomas moved to the dumbwaiter, unveiling it and revealing some ingredients and a very small pot, “what about some hot chocolate?”

“You’re kidding,” Alexander almost tripped over his own two feet, rushing towards the table.

“I’m not”

“You’re spoiling me, you know that?”

“Yes and I love it”

When the clock struck midnight, it found them curled on the sofa, a cup of hot chocolate in their hands and a wide smile on their faces.

“Merry Christmas Thomas”

“Merry Christmas Alexander”

* * *

The following day was very chaotic for Alexander – they woke up way too early for his habits, had to get dressed properly and rode to the city to attend the Mass and meet with Thomas’s daughters, Patsy and Polly, and his son-in-law, a very wary Mr Randolph.

“So, you’ve been kept here for the holidays by some government affair, I understood”

“Yup, correct,” Alexander didn’t want to be too specific, “you know, taxes, finances, banks – Mrs Randolph, congratulation on your first daughter, I’ve heard she’s got all ten fingers and toes!”

Thomas almost laughed at Alexander’s obvious attempt to change the subject and rushed to his aid by distracting his son-in-law with talks of politics.

When they reached the house, Alex and Thomas felt almost ashamed of Monticello’s poor Christmas decorations – Mrs Randolph had had her house completely decorated with holly and pine cones, and a huge Christmas tree towered in the dining room, trimmed with ribbons and candles. The table was laden with different kinds of meat, vegetables and bakery products – the food was clearly too much for only five people, but they probably only wanted to impress their guests. They left their coats at the entrance and Thomas finally had the chance to exhibit his new walking stick (“Dad, that’s amazing, where did you buy it?”, “It’s a gift from a very close friend of mine, from France”) and to secretly wink at Alexander every time no one was looking. They sat at the table and Alexander quickly grabbed Thomas’s hand from under the tablecloth, squeezing it for a second before freeing it, as if to seek his help to make it through the day.

The supper lasted what seemed for Alexander to be an eternity. Mr Randolph asked him almost a hundred questions, and since he was a Democratic-Republican – of course he was – he seemed to disagree with every word uttered by his guest; Thomas had to mediate very hard to avoid direct confrontation. Fortunately, Alexander really wanted to impress Mrs Randolph and Ms Jefferson and so he behaved unexpectedly well – Polly was utterly fascinated with him. And when the nanny brought little Anne downstairs, Patsy was also very satisfied with Alexander’s praises to the child; she even let him hold the baby, laughing merrily at the tenderness on his face while he lulled baby Anne in his arms. When Thomas, who was having an eggnog with Randolph, entered the room and saw Hamilton holding his niece, he almost dropped the glass – it was one of the cutest things he’d ever seen.

“Daddy, do you want to hold her too?” Mrs Randolph gently took the baby from Alexander’s arms, her face shining with joy.

“Of course, Patsy, I’ve come all this way to meet her”

That was Alexander’s turn to be struck by that lovely image. Thomas’s serious countenance melted into something kinder and warmer. He carried baby Anne around the room while talking softly or humming to her, a sweet smile lighting up his face.

“Mr Hamilton, would you like a glass of whiskey?” Mr Randolph asked mischievously while Thomas wasn’t there to stop him, “it’s a very expensive one - considering the taxes and all, the price of such a bottle is now almost doubled”

“Yes, thank you,” Alexander made certain that the ladies weren’t too close to listen, “and you should be happy to have all the money in the world to pay those taxes, Mr Randolph. You see, looking at your house it doesn’t seem to be a sacrifice for you to pay some more dollars for a bottle”

Mr Randolph’s face grew very red and he sputtered something like “how dare you”, but luckily for both of them, Patsy choose that moment to place the baby into her husband’s arms, and Thomas quickly dragged Alexander away.

“Are you insane?” Thomas hissed, “I thought you were that rude only with me - and occasionally with Burr”

“Are you jealous?” he replied sarcastically, “look, Thomas, I can’t just stay there and listen to his insinuations without reacting”

“I know you can’t,” Thomas sighed, “I think we’d better go”

They waited until the nanny took Anne back to the nursery room, and then bade goodbye to their hosts. The atmosphere had suddenly become very tense, Mr Randolph was still looking askance at Hamilton and he’d probably told something to his wife, because she was upset too.

“We know that you’re here only because President Washington has forced my father-in-law to invite you,” Randolph whispered to Hamilton while Thomas was hugging his daughters.

Alexander smiled slightly – if only he knew the true reason why he was spending his holidays in Virginia.

“And Mr Jefferson had been very polite not to make you feel like a burden,” he added, “but you are, we don’t want bastard immigrants in this house –

In the following moments too many things happened in a very quick order: Alexander instinctively raised his fist – but hesitated a second before punching Thomas’s son-in-law; a woman yelled something he couldn’t understand; and lastly, he saw Mr Randolph falling on the ground. But it wasn’t him who’d punched the man. It was Thomas. 

“If I hear another word coming from that filthy mouth of yours, I swear I’ll disinherit you all,” he threatened in a growl, “I thought better of my family’s hospitality – Mr Hamilton and I, despite being political enemies, have been able to put aside our conflicts and sit together for Christmas. You should be ashamed of yourself”

He turned and exited the house without looking back at Mr Randolph, or Patsy, who’d threw herself to help her husband, her face covered in tears. Alexander muttered his apologies and walked to the door, guilt already crushing him. He felt a soft hand taking his and turned to face Polly, Thomas’s younger daughter, who was looking at him with sympathetic eyes – she smiled shyly and her lips articulated a silent “I’m sorry”, before letting him go. Alexander gave her a weak smile and followed Thomas, who was already on his horse, ready to go home.

“I’m sorry, Thomas, I shouldn’t have come,” he said quietly while they rode back to Monticello.

Thomas didn’t answer, he was probably too upset to talk with anyone – or perhaps he simply didn’t heard him, Alexander couldn’t say.

In the following days Thomas seemed to be always busy doing something, he went out for long rides in the morning – sometimes Alexander went with him, but they both liked to ride quietly and so they didn’t talk very much – and once he got home, he usually occupied his time by gardening, polishing fossils and bones that he’d excavated during his expeditions, cooking, building extravagant objects or reading. Alexander had the whole library for himself and he was quite happy with it for a couple of days, but after a while he started noticing that Thomas was avoiding spending time alone with him. They hadn’t talked about what had happened at Christmas yet, and Thomas seemed to be resolved not to do it in the close future. One night, Alexander went to bed and waited for him, but Thomas never came; Alex found him the next morning sleeping on his desk, his face buried in papers and a stain on ink on his forehead – he’d probably fallen asleep while working, another activity he’d chosen to avoid thinking about their relationship.

After waking up and washing the ink away from his face, Thomas went to look for Alexander and he found him in the guest room, packing his bags to leave.

“Alexander,” he called him, a note of panic in his voice, “what are you doing?”

“What do you think?” he retorted without turning, “I’m going home today”

“I thought we’ve decided to spend the New Year together; what about Madison’s party? We have to go and talk with him”

“Well, you can tell him not to worry,” he answered bitterly after a second, “I won’t be disturbing you anymore”

That was too much for Thomas to bear; he grabbed Alexander’s shoulder and forced him to turn.

“Alexander, what the fuck are you saying –

“Look, we gave it a try and it didn’t work, let’s face it,” Alexander looked at him with sad eyes, “since I came here we’ve been discovered by your best friend and colleague, and you’ve punched your son-in-law to defend my reputation”

“So what?”

“I’m already ruining your life, Thomas, can you see that?”

“No, I can’t see it, because I didn’t have a damn life before you –

“And now you don’t even talk to me, you’re avoiding me and we are supposed to face Madison in two days – how should I defend our relationship if I don’t even know whether you still want to stay with me?”

“It’s not me who’s packing right now,” Thomas answered sharply.

“I’m going away because you’ve clearly regretted having introduced me to your family – I know I ruined your fucking Christmas, and I would have apologized a million times if you’d talked to me once in the last three days,” he concluded, turning again to stuff his belongings in the bag.

Thomas knew Hamilton was right, he had avoided confronting him. He’d been extremely upset for the things his stupid son-in-law had said to Alexander, and he’d been angry at himself for believing that the plan ‘invite-your-enemy-home-for-Christmas’ could work. But he wasn’t mad at Alexander; he’d just felt too guilty to talk with him and now he was feeling even worse for having ignored the problem for so long.

“I’m sorry, Alexander, it’s all my fault,” he said quietly, “please forgive me, love, don’t go”

Alexander stiffened at Thomas’s words and slowly turned to face him. He looked like a wounded animal, he was always so wary when it came to trusting people’s words.

“Aren’t you mad at me?”

“Of course not,” Thomas took his hand and press it to his heart, “I was too ashamed by my family’s behaviour to talk to you, and now I see that it was stupid of me to act like this – I made you believe that I had regretted having you here, while I can swear you that these last days have been the best on my life”

“Are you sure of it?” Alex smiled through the tears that were streaming on his face, “Thomas, I’m so sorry I ruined Christmas”

“Don’t say that, love,” he softly kissed Alexander’s eyelids, the tip of his nose and finally his lips, “come on, you punched Burr for a lot less than that, I’m so proud that you hesitated long enough to give me the chance to revenge your honour”

“Did you hear from your daughters?”

“Yes… Polly was mortified by Randolph’s words, but Patsy is still too upset to write,” he sighed, “she’ll come around, don’t worry”

“So, are you done avoiding me?”

“Yes, my love, I’m so sorry I’ve been neglecting you in the past days, it won’t ever happen again,” Thomas kissed him tenderly, his heart beating extremely fast while he asked his next question, “will you stay?”

Alexander faked a wavering face and then beamed at him.

“What about a hot bath to make amends?” he winked, “and then we can make peace”

“ _Très bien alors_ ,” Thomas offered him a tantalizing smile “you’ve got yourself a deal”


	20. Chapter 20

“Are you really going to go out like that?!”

“Shut up, Hamilton, what do you know about fashion?” Thomas felt a bit of his old self coming out every time they quarrelled like that, “let’s look at your outfit – oh my, do you know we’re are going to a party and not to a funeral?”

“Fuck you,” Alexander shouted before going to change his black dress into something more colourful.

“I love you too,” Thomas giggled from his room.

In front of him, reflected in the full-size gold-framed mirror, stood a tall man dressed in a long bright red velvet coat; its sleeves and the high collar were decorated with golden patterns, and it had the usual puffed cuffs. Beneath the coat he wore a slightly darker shade of breeches and waistcoat, white stockings and elegant dark shoes. His new walking stick completed his eccentric outfit.

“It will be difficult to lose you in the crowd tonight,” Alexander joked, entering the room again.

“Now that’s a dress!” Thomas caught a glimpse of him through the mirror and turned to admire his boyfriend.

He was now wearing a short light blue coat with matching waistcoat and breeches. The fabric was simpler and lacked of elaborate decorations, nevertheless Alexander was stunning – the colour of the dress highlighted his beautiful blue eyes, which appeared even wider and more expressive than usual.

“You know that Madison will wear black as usual, right?”

“I don’t care, you’re my guest and I won’t let you in my carriage dressed like a chief mourner,” Thomas insisted, “and then, if you wear this blue one I won’t be able to take my eyes off you and flirt with the ladies”

“You’ve got a point,” Alex laughed, “all right, I’ll wear this one”

They got in the carriage and sat silently for a while. Despite his cheerful mood, Thomas was nervous about the meeting with Madison – what if he opposed their relationship? He wouldn’t give Hamilton up so easily, he was sure of that, but what if James was intransigent? Alexander, on the other hand, seemed much more confident, he was fidgeting on his seat with an excited face – he just couldn’t wait to put all that Madison situation aside and enjoy a good party at last.

“Thomas, it’s going to be all right,” Alex put his hand on Thomas’s trembling one, “trust me”

Thomas didn’t answer but kissed Alexander’s hand and held it until they arrived.

“Shit, how can you all have such huge houses?” Alex almost yelled when he got out of the carriage, making some guests look at him with snobbish stares, “it’s even bigger than Monticello,” he added low, only for Thomas to hear.

“Madison is one of the richest men in Piedmont,” Thomas whispered back, “now let’s go find him, maybe we can talk with him before dinner”

They walked the cobbled street that led to the main entrance together with some other guests; they were all elegantly dressed and Alexander mentally thanked Jefferson for forcing him to change clothes. The inside of the house was full of people who were laughing and chatting, drinking cider and wine, commenting on the house or other people’s outfits. Thomas stopped several times to shake hands with old friends or eminent people, always introducing Hamilton in a gentlemanly, yet very aloof, fashion. In the eyes of those people they hated each other – Thomas clasped his walking stick, the one Hamilton had given him for Christmas, and nervously scanned the crowd from the top of his six-feet-two, looking for James.

“Thomas, Mr Hamilton,” Madison’s voice called them from a hallway on the left, he was looking at them with emotionless eyes “how nice to see that you’ve accepted my invitation”

“James,” Thomas gave him a smile that disappeared before reaching his eyes, “can we talk?”

“Mr Madison,” Hamilton nodded, “nice party”

Madison ignored Alexander and looked straight into Thomas’s eyes for some seconds – he must have been satisfied with what he saw, because he smiled slightly and gestured them to follow him into his study. Once the door closed, he turned to face them with a very serious countenance. Alexander opened his mouth to speak but Thomas placed a hand on his shoulder, silently asking to speak first; Alex looked at him, nodded and took his hand. James’s eyes silently went from Thomas’s hand on Hamilton’s shoulder, to their expressions, to their interlaced fingers, and back to Thomas, who started to explain everything.

James had learnt long ago how to read every single expression of his best friend; they were so connected than very often they didn’t need to talk in order to know what the other was thinking – that’s why they were a dreaded couple to battle against in the Cabinet. This time, however, Thomas had to talk – he said out loud everything he’d felt for Hamilton from the first time he’d seen him (“I instantly despised him more than everyone I’d even known”) to the present moment.

“I feel like I’m breathing again for the first time after Martha’s death, James,” he concluded, “you were there and you know how I suffered. The grief had never really gone away, but now I’m finally able to think of her with a smile on my lips”

“I can see that,” James was deep in thoughts, there was quite a lot for him to process, “Thomas I can see that you’re honest, you’ve always been, but I’m your best friend and I don’t want you to get hurt – how can you know that _he_ ’s not just acting out a role to manipulate you?”

“He would never –

“Cut the crap, James,” Alexander was done waiting for his turn to speak, “you know me, we’d been inseparable before Jefferson came back, how can you even think that I’d be able to do such a thing?”

“You’re a skilled politician, Hamilton,” James was still very doubtful, “sometimes I wonder how much would you risk to ensure your precious legacy”

“I remind you, James,” Alexander snapped, “that I’ve a wife and children. When Thomas and I started it, we both knew that we would have been hanged if one of us had talked – you see, that’s not something one would do so lightly, except for the fact that I would rather die than spend the rest of my life without Thomas”

When he finished, Madison and Jefferson were looking at him with shocked faces; Thomas was startled because he’d never heard Alex professing their love in such passionate words – as usual, Hamilton only needed a confrontation to become the best orator ever, and Madison because he’d been hit by his complete honesty.

“All right then,” James quickly recovered from the surprise and turned to Thomas, “so what about the check stubs Burr gave us last summer? Are you not disgusted by the fact that he’d been using the Government’s money for his own benefit?”

Alexander immediately turned to Thomas, shooting him a withering look.

“ _Burr_ gave it to you?” he hissed.

“He didn’t know?” Madison asked, dismayed by Hamilton’s reaction.

“As I told you before, we’ve agreed that we have to respect each other’s secrecy when politics is concerned,” Thomas sighed, “so, no – he didn’t know it was Burr who gave us the check stubs”

“That damned son of a –

“Anyway, Alexander, would you like to show James that you’re not guilty of what Burr accused?”

Alexander almost threw the diary to Madison, muttering something against Burr that sounded very much like ‘should’ve punched him more’, and waited while Madison carefully scanned every page of his check records.

“The summer of last year, while we were discussing the details of our agreement for the banks and the US capital,” Alexander started to explain, “I had an affair with... a married woman” – he cast a quick look to Thomas, who he nodded approvingly – “but then her husband found it out and they started blackmailing me”

“You can see now, James, that he’s never used other money than his own to pay this ‘gentleman’; this means that our accusations are unfounded”

Madison closed the diary and took off his glasses, looking at both of them with a preoccupied face. He gave the book back to Hamilton and cleared his throat, coughing a bit.

“Well, I can see that I have all the reasons to trust you,” he finally admitted, “but it doesn’t mean that I’m not keeping an eye on both of you – if I discover that you’re fooling me, I’ll denounce you as traitors”

“It won’t happen,” Alexander stated convincingly.

“We won’t let our relationship influence our political ideals and our work,” Thomas concluded, “we’re both serving our nation before anything else”

“I’m happy to hear that,” Madison hesitated a moment, “Thomas can I talk to you for a second?”

“Yes,” Thomas turned to Alexander, every trace of anxiety now gone from his face, and winked, “see you in a minute, love”

“Time to get the party started,” he grinned and left them alone.

James got up from his chair and slowly walked around the desk, placing his hands behind his back as he did every time he was worried, and finally stopped in front of his best friend.

“Thomas, I really admire what you two are doing to stay together,” he begun, “but how long do you think it will last?”

Thomas didn’t answer. That was another reason why he’d been so nervous about talking with James – they’d always told the truth to each other, even the times when the truth wasn’t something pleasant to hear.

“You’ve managed to leave politics out of your relationship so far and that’s impressive,” Madison went on, “but that’s not about politics, and I think you both know it. It’s about your beliefs, your way of thinking – maybe the banks were only a minor thing for you, maybe Hamilton will continue tolerating your ideas on slavery; but at some point something bigger will happen and you’ll be forced to face all the things that you’ve been ignoring about each other”

“I know”

“I’m really sorry, Thomas, it’s just that I don’t want to see you hurt again”

“You’re a great friend James,” Thomas reassured him, “you only gave voice to what I already knew, and I think Alexander knows it as well – but right now, we don’t care about our differences, we simply love each other”

“I hope it’ll last, I haven’t seen you so happy in a long time,” Madison patted his friend’s back, “now, let’s go enjoy the party”

* * *

Thomas found Alexander talking heatedly with John Marshall, one of the few federalists from Virginia – he was already surrounded by a small group of ladies, who were hanging off his every word. Maybe he shouldn’t have told him to wear the blue dress, he wasn’t the only one who kept being distracted by his beautiful eyes now.

“Mr Jefferson, look, I’ve finally found someone who’s worth talking with, among all you Democratic-Republicans,” Hamilton teased.

“Mr Marshall,” Thomas greeted him, ignoring Alexander’s comment, “ladies,” he bowed, casting a tantalizing smile to the female company.

“We were talking about the French Revolution,” Marshall explained him, “I’ve lately received a letter from a friend of mine, telling me that it’s getting quite a bloody matter”

“My dear Mr Marshall, that’s absolutely impossible – and even so, the tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants,” Thomas stated passionately, “the French are led by high ideals, we’ll be craving their democracy in a couple of years”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Hamilton cut him off, “the only thing we’ll be seeing in France is anarchy”

“Only because the people are leading, it doesn’t mean that they won’t be able to govern themselves,” Thomas retorted, “but, of course, your sympathy lies with King Louis XVI, we all know your monarchic tendencies –

“Come on, gentlemen, these are not things to be discussed now, in front of these beautiful ladies,” Mr Marshall tried to stop them, knowing that Hamilton was ready to argue back, “Mr Hamilton, I know you’re a great dancer, why don’t you invite Miss Dashwood for a dance?”

Alexander smiled through gritted teeth and politely invited the young lady to dance, turning his back to them and walking with her towards the neighbouring room, where a small orchestra was playing a quadrille.

Dinner was served in another room, where several long tables had been prepared. There was so much food Alexander couldn’t believe it: the first course consisted in soup, fish, and then turkey, ham, rabbits, hares and even wild fowl and venison; the second one started with casserole, pies, fricassee, puddings and ended with vegetables. Then the table cloth was removed and desserts appeared: there were fresh fruit, cheese, nuts, creams, jellies, sponge cakes, compotes, sweet gelatines, and more. Every course was accompanied by beer and cider, wine and distilled spirits. By the end of the dinner, many people were tipsy and everyone’s stomach was full. Alexander had been sitting next to Mr Marshall and, at the end of the supper, they headed to the ballroom together, chatting and laughing. Alexander spotted Thomas right away – his crimson outfit was the boldest in the whole room; he was dancing a reel with a woman Alex didn’t know. He stood there for some minutes, admiring Thomas’s elegant figure following the cheerful rhythm of the music and wishing they could dance together.

When a cotillion started, he joined the dances with Miss Dashwood once more, placing himself next to Jefferson – since it was a four-couple dance they would be dancing together, sort of.

“What are you doing?” Thomas hissed at him right before he swapped places with his lady.

“What do you think?” Alexander whispered back as they exchanged a bow with the ladies and turned to move again, “I’m dancing with you”

“You’re dancing next to me,” Thomas corrected him with a sigh – he’d already understood what Alexander was distressing himself about.

“Well, that’s the best we can do right now,” Alex shrugged and then smiled to his lady, offering his arm to her and spinning slowly.

The song eventually came to an end and they bowed to their partners, clapping their hands. Miss Dashwood, despite being Alexander’s dancing partner, shamelessly winked at Thomas before going away, and Alexander turned to him with his arms crossed and a frown on his face. Thomas didn’t even notice it and grabbed his elbow, gracelessly dragging him away from the dance floor.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Alexander grunted as soon as Thomas stopped.

“Do you see the red curtain on the other side of the room?” Thomas asked quietly.

“Yes, so what?”

“I happen to know every inch of this building, and behind that curtain there’s a small guest room,” he explained, while he pretended to look at the couples dancing, “wait until this song is over and then go there, there’s quite a crowd tonight and I think you won’t be noticed”

“What about you?”

“I know another entrance, so that no one will suspect about us”

Alexander’s eyes lit like the ones of a child who’s up to no good, and nodded with a grin. Thomas abruptly turned and walked away.

The couples were dancing a minuet now and everyone was looking at them, admiring the prettiest girls or commenting on some gentleman’s dance moves; Alexander nonchalantly moved to the other end of the room and leaned on the wall right next to the curtain. As the last notes faded away and the couples bowed, he slipped into the room and looked around – the small room was half-lit by a fire that was cracking and popping in its fireplace, on the other side of the room there was a single bed with some pillows and a large closet; in front of him, a door opened and Jefferson came in.

“Do you want to make out here?” Alexander joked, moving next to Thomas and taking his hand.

“Sort of,” Thomas played along, “what about a dance?”

In the nearby room the orchestra had just started playing a jig and, since there was only a curtain separating them from the world outside, the music could be perfectly heard – and danced. Thomas stood in front of him and bowed, an amused smile on his face.

“Why do I have to be the lady?”

“Because you’re a better dancer than me, I bet you can do all the ladies moves without missing a step,” Thomas flattered to convince him.

Alexander thought about it for a moment and then bowed at Thomas, sticking his tongue out before taking his arm. The song was a slow romantic one, and they danced in small circles, as if they were flirting through the music; Thomas’s eyes never lost Alexander’s, nothing had changed from that first time when their gazes had met – he could still read him like an open book, his emotions were written so plainly on his face that no words were needed. In that moment, Alexander’s eyes seemed to repeat the powerful words he’d said to Madison some hours before: I’d rather die than spend the rest of my life without feeling love. And Alexander’s love was all for him to have – Thomas couldn’t feel luckier. When the song ended, instead of bowing, he took Alexander in his arms and kissed him tenderly. Outside the room, people were starting to cheer and wish each other a happy new year.

“This year together will only be the first of many, I’ll never give up on us, I promise,” Thomas smiled, “I love you, Alexander”

“I love you Thomas,” Alexander whispered softly, love permeating each word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I can't believe I've already written 20 chapters! So, the story is NOT finished yet... there will be big changes in the next chapters!  
> Thank you so much for your support and for all your comments, they mean the world to me.  
> Happy New Year to everyone!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2021 everyone!
> 
> Before reading:  
> \- Remember that in the last chapter Thomas and Alex were celebrating the beginning of 1792;  
> \- The newspaper's article is the original one, I took it from here: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83025881/1797-02-08/ed-1/seq-3/ [it was so cool to read it on the scan of an original newspaper aaaaaaaaaa]

Thomas woke up at dawn, as usual, but kept his eyes shut for a couple of minutes, trying to relax and maybe sleep a little more – perhaps it’d all been a dream and he would awake at Monticello, living his good old life, even though his aching back was a concrete proof of the endless journey of the previous day. He groaned and opened his eyes to find himself in the hotel room he’d booked in Philadelphia, on 4th street; it was a simple place but very neat and comfortable, it’d do for a while. He sighed and got up, dressing quickly without really looking at the clothes – he’d always look perfect anyway – and combing his messy hair into a ponytail. Then he moved to the kitchen, were the fire was lit but no one was in sight, and so he decided to kill the time by cooking breakfast himself; he was frying some eggs when someone softly knocked at the door. There was only one person who could come so early, knowing that he was already up.

“Thomas, are you awake?” Madison’s voice came from outside.

“A minute,” he yelled and took the pan off the stove before going to open the door.

He stood aside and James entered the room with a very solemn air, waving a fresh newspaper in his hand.

“How are you feeling?” he asked Thomas before announcing the reason of his visit, “you don’t look very well, did you sleep?”

“Barely,” Thomas rubbed his eyes and turned to his breakfast, sharing the food with James, who accepted it with a silent smile, “I don’t know how to feel, I suppose I should be happy but I’m freaking out.”

“Well, it’s too late to have second thoughts now,” Madison opened the newspaper and laid it out on the table, pointing to the short article at the beginning of the third page “it’s public.”

_Philadelphia, February 8, 1797._

_This day agreeable to the Constitution, both Houses of Congress met in Convention in the Representatives Chamber, for the purpose of counting the votes of the Electors for the several States for President of the United States, when it appeared that there were for JOHN ADAMS, Vice President of the United States, and President of the Senate, seventy one votes, and for THOMAS JEFFERSON, sixty-eight votes. Whereupon the Vice President, pursuant to joint vote of both Houses, passed the present session, declared, JOHN ADAMS, President of the United States; and THOMAS JEFFERSON, Vice President – for four years commencing the fourth of March next._

“Congratulations, Mr Vice President,” James shook his hand with a grin, “we’ll make Adams regret his presidency for the rest of his life.”

“He won’t last more than one term,” he agreed, “and by then we will have those damned federalists out of the Government.”

Thomas sat and started to eat, already thinking about his plan of action, while James continued reading the newspaper distractedly. They stood in silence for a while and then, slowly putting away the papers, Madison asked the dreaded question.

“Did Adam change any of the people in the Cabinet?”

“No, he didn’t – Pickering is at State, Wolcott at Treasury and McHenry at War.”

“Three federalists, and so the Cabinet is once more controlled by –

Madison hesitated, casting a quick glance at Thomas, who didn’t even blink – he’d had years to lock his emotions under control again – and ended the sentence for him.

“By Hamilton.”

* * *

“Alexander,” a sweet voice was calling him, “Alexander wake up, honey.”

_He was on the doorstep of Monticello, waiting for someone to open the door. A black woman was passing in front of the house with a basket of clean laundry and noticed him._

_“The master isn’t home,” she informed, “he went riding a couple of hours ago.”_

_“Thank you,” he smiled at her and sat on the porch step, “I’ll wait here if it’s all right for you.”_

_She looked at him with an unimpressed face and went on with her chores. It was a beautiful summer day and the lawns around the mansion were covered with flowers, bees and cicadas – it was such a peaceful image that he probably dozed off, because after some moment, the voice he was longing to hear woke him up. However, the tone was very different from what he’d hoped._

_“What the fuck are you doing here?”_

_He started and got up at once, leaning on a column not to fall. Thomas was standing on the cobblestone path, several feet away from him, with a furious expression on his face and his arms crossed on his chest – Alexander knew that Thomas used to cross his arms when he was very upset, he’d once told him that it helped him not to fall into pieces. But nevertheless, his face and his words were very clear._

_“Go,” he breathed heavily, “away.”_

_“Thomas, please –_

_“I thought I’d been very clear, Mr Hamilton,” he cut him off, “when I said that I didn’t want to see you anymore, I actually meant it.”_

_Alexander’s face was already covered in tears, but Thomas didn’t come closer, he only held his arms tighter to his chest, breathing even harder._

_“Can I stay just for one night?” Alexander sobbed, “I will be going tomorrow morning – please, it’s been years since last time I saw you.”_

_Jefferson’s composure faltered for a moment, and Alexander caught a glimpse of his long-gone Thomas, the one who always looked at him with a soft smile and loving eyes. But after less than a second, he was gone. Thomas walked in front of him and opened the door, without even casting a glance to the other man._

_“I want you out of here tomorrow at dawn,” he hissed and entered, leaving the door open for him._

“Alexander, sweetheart,” Eliza’s tone grew a bit worried while she tried to calm her husband, “you were having a bad dream – it’s all right honey, I’m here, it was only one of your nightmares.”

“I’m ok,” he took a couple of deep breaths, holding Eliza’s hand, “thank you for waking me though.”

“I would have called you in half an hour anyway, I’m almost ready to go.”

“Don’t you want to stay another week?”

“Honey, you know I love to stay with you, but you’re always working and I don’t know anyone here in Philadelphia – moreover, Angelica will arrive in a couple of weeks and I want to be in Albany in time to welcome her home.”

“You’re right, she’d be too disappointed if she didn’t find you there,” Alexander agreed with a smile, thinking of Angelica’s well-known exaggerated reactions, “I hope I’ll be able to come and visit you as soon as possible.”

He helped his wife carrying her luggage to the carriage and kissed her goodbye, recommending to send his love to the children and Angelica. He then stood there, watching the carriage becoming smaller and smaller, until it turned right in another street and disappeared. He suddenly felt lonely, it was a feeling he’d grown used to by now, but that still made him uncomfortable – even more by the fact that the cause of all his problems and sufferings was there in town once more.

“Fucking Vice President,” he muttered before turning his back to the street and getting back home, carefully closing the door to stop the cold February air from following him.

He dressed quickly, carefully choosing his clothes – he wore the grey waistcoat and breeches that Thomas once liked so much, together with a brand new dark blue coat, and headed to the Presidential house.

“Hamilton,” a familiar, yet unwelcome voice called him.

“Oh fuck,” he muttered under his breath, “Burr, haven’t they kicked you out yet?”

“You’re sweet as usual,” he smiled his fake smile and narrowed his eyes, “I thought Adams said he didn’t want you here.”

“I don’t fucking care what that fat motherfucker says,” Alexander retorted bitterly, “he’s always in Quincy anyway, so how would he know?”

“I would be careful if I were you, Alexander,” Burr said in a low voice, leaning down to whisper in his ear, “I’ve heard some interesting rumours lately, about a certain Mrs Reynold.”

“Are you threatening me?” Alexander was shocked - when had Burr become so bold?

“I’m just saying that this kind of gossip grows very quickly – I can’t imagine what it would do to a former politician’s public image,” he grinned viciously, “so maybe you should be more careful not to piss people off. Have a good day, Mr Hamilton.”

Burr left him standing outside the entrance, slamming the door behind him to underline the fact that Alex was not welcomed there. Hamilton was astounded – he’d been just threatened by a person he’d once considered a friend; he knew Burr was morally bankrupt, but he wouldn’t have never expected him to act in such pathetic way in order to gain what he wanted.

He stood there for a couple of minutes, trying to cool down; however, when the time to get in came, he hesitated, his hand on the doorknob - was it better to go home and surrender to Burr’s threats, or to keep ignoring people’s continuous criticism, as he’d done his whole life?

“Can I help you?”

“You can go fuck yourself,” Alexander answered immediately, recognising Jefferson’s voice – no matter that other two years had passed from that damned night he’d spent in Monticello, he could never forget his voice – “Mr Vice President,” he added in a mocking tone, facing him with his usual daring stare.

“Old habits never change,” Thomas commented sarcastically, looking him up and down with a snobbish stare.

“You can shove your sarcasm up your ass,” he growled – shit, this shouldn’t have happened like that, Alex thought, why did he always insult people, especially the ones whom he resolved not to?

He abruptly turned away from Jefferson and entered the house, slamming the door on Thomas’s face. A few steps away from them, Madison had witnessed the whole scene with a concerned look.

“Thomas –

“I’m okay,” he said quickly, “you don’t have to worry for me, James.”

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I know.”

_When he was asleep, Alexander was gorgeous. Thomas had always preferred him awake because that way he could see his eyes – but this time it was easier to look at him while he was unconscious and relaxed, as if all their problems had never existed, as if those last two years apart had disappeared. When Thomas had seen him on his doorstep that afternoon, he’d felt his heart explode; it was totally unexpected and terribly beautiful to have him there. All the memories of their last time at Monticello had hit him at once, making it hard to breathe – fortunately, Alexander had been taking a nap on the doorstep and Thomas had had the time to recover a bit. Thomas still remembered the promises they’d made to each other, the certainty that their love would have overcame everything else; and yet, here they were. All their promises had been broken, as well as their hearts._

_“What the fuck are you doing here? Go away” – it was too dangerous to have him there, he couldn’t risk to give in to temptation and ruin all the work he’d done in the last two years._

_“Thomas, please –_

_“I thought I’d been very clear, Mr Hamilton, when I said that I didn’t want to see you anymore, I actually meant it” – it was a lie, of course, but Hamilton had been so devastated by his words last time, he knew they would work again._

_Alexander had cried and Thomas had almost gone mad. Every single cell in his body had been screaming at him to go and hug him, tell him that everything was going to be all right and that he could stay forever. He’d felt his own nails digging into his flesh and had focused on the external pain, ignoring the inner one._

_“Can I stay just for one night? I will be going tomorrow morning – please, it’s been years since last time I saw you.”_

_Thomas had felt his willpower falter and he’d finally given in; he couldn’t leave him outside the whole night anyway._

_“I want you out of here tomorrow at dawn,” he’d heard himself saying._

_They hadn’t even dined – it was too dangerous to talk, they could’ve ruined those precious hours together – and so they’d spent the rest of the evening and night in Thomas’s bed, expressing their love without needing any words._

_But was it love? Thomas wondered while filling his memories of Alexander sleeping – no, it was only a shared need to feel the shadow of what they once were. Before he changed his mind, Thomas quietly got up and scribbled a stone-cold note to Alexander, softly kissing the paper before throwing it on the bed and stepping away, a single tear escaping his dark eyes._

As soon as he was alone, Thomas curled on the floor of his study, fastening his arms around his legs and thinking of something pleasant to avoid the umpteenth panic attack. The problem is that the only thing that had always helped him to go through those moments was the memory of Alexander taking care of him; but this time he knew that Hamilton was barely a couple of walls away from him, and that he didn’t care about him. Thomas hadn’t seen Alexander from that night in Monticello – a night that had been so perfect that Thomas started to doubt it’d really happened; and now that he finally talked to him, the self-control he’d spent years to build back almost cracked on the spot. Alexander however was perfect as usual, beautiful and passionate, ready to swear and to fight with everyone – the man he’d always loved.

Thomas cried while trying to breathe, his control slipping away from him. He’d really thought that he was ready to come back, but he wasn’t.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate meeeee, I'm so sorry they broke up, the reason will eventually come out in this chapter and the next one T_T  
> I too love them better when they cuddle, but right now they need to work their shit out and it'll get a bit sad, but good things come to those who wait!
> 
> Love you guys, thanks for your support <3

_Alexander entered Jefferson’s house from the back door with the keys Thomas had given him some months before and called him out loud in order to announce his presence. Jefferson hadn’t been at work today and even Madison hadn’t heard from him, and so Alexander had decided to stop by before going home, in case he needed anything._

_“Jefferson,” he called again, “I know you’re scared of losing again against me, but you should come to work sooner or later.”_

_No one answered, so he went to check in the library. Thomas had fallen asleep on the couch, he was dressed as if he’d been ready to go out but had suddenly changed his mind; a three-page-long letter was lying on the floor, right next to his relaxed hand that was swinging loosely on the side of the couch. Alexander smiled and was silently coming closer to wake him up, when he noticed the letter’s signature: it was Adrienne de La Fayette’s, the Marquis’s wife. Perhaps his sixth sense already knew that something wasn’t right, or maybe it was the shivering that went through his spine at the sight of the name, but he found himself reading the letter without even asking Thomas the permission to read his private mail._

_“Holy shit!” he read quickly, even though the handwriting was blurred, as if someone had poured water on it on it – or were they tears?_

_“Alexander?” Thomas’s sleepy voice distracted him from the letter, “what are you doing?”_

_Thomas’s eyes were red and puffed, his face was tired and afflicted. Alexander immediately moved closer to him and took his hand, scanning his face with a concerned look._

_“I came here to check on you, since you weren’t at work” he explained, “and then I found this.”_

_Thomas looked at the letter with a dreaded stare, his mouth opened but he couldn’t talk and his eyes filled with tears again. He lowered his head and started to cry again, confirming Alexander’s fears._

_“Is he – dead?” Alex asked in a cracked voice, too afraid to find the answer in the letter to go on reading it._

_“No,” Thomas sobbed, “he tried to flee to come here, but he’d been captured. He’s in prison in Westphalia, Prussia.”_

_Alexander knew that could have happened; in his last letter he’d recommended Lafayette to be careful, listing several aspects that worried him about his friend’s position as the Head of the Guard in the French revolution._

_“We have to do something to help him,” Thomas looked up at him, “his wife and children risk to meet the guillotine, we need to protect them.”_

_“I’ll do whatever is in my power to help you, Thomas,” Alexander said, a worried note in his voice, “Lafayette is like a brother to me, we’ll help him.”_

_[Lafayette’s imprisonment, August 1792]_

* * *

_“The issue on the table: France is on the verge of war with England. Do we provide aid and troops to our French allies or do we stay out of it?” George Washington introduced the problem to the Cabinet members before leaving the word to Thomas._

_“Thank you, Mr President,” Jefferson cast a glance to the other members and then focused on the President – this time it didn’t matter what the Congress would say, he had to convince Washington to help France – “I want to remind every one of you here today of the situation of the United Colonies of America when we signed our Declaration of Independence; I’ve been told that the Congress wasn’t able to provide enough guns, clothes and even food for the Continental Army, and that before French and Spanish aid arrived we’d been in danger of mutinies and general dissatisfaction. Our situation changed only – and I repeat it, only – thanks to our French allies, who provided us a naval force, and enough guns and cannons to fight for our freedom.”_

_He stopped for a moment, taking his time to look everyone in the eyes before continuing._

_“And now that our brothers and sisters are fighting for their own freedom, England is trying to oppress them as well – yes gentlemen, I’m talking about George III; he’s the same tyrant who had once been forcing us to pay for his taxes, without giving us our rightful representation in parliament; he’s the same man that sent twenty-two thousand troops in our harbour to crush our revolution,” he stood up, talking with passion, “France has never asked for lands after helping us. The only thing they want now is the possibility to be free. The treaty we signed –_

_“Was signed by a man who’s head is now in a basket,” Alexander interrupted him, standing up and addressing the President, “Sir, I think I’m talking for all of us when I say that the French revolution has become too bloody a thing for us to still believe in its original ideals – it’s complete anarchy, and we can’t risk our own freedom to help a nation that is Kingless.”_

_Thomas looked at him with a shocked face, completely speechless. He was so sure that Alexander would’ve agreed with him that his speech came completely unexpected. He turned to Madison, who was coughing out of surprise, and then back to Hamilton, who’d started talking again._

_“We’re too fragile to enter a war,” he said directly to Washington, “we don’t have enough money yet, nor a Government strong enough to resist a potential civil war – England would submit us back into a colony within a year.”_

_Washington nodded and looked at Jefferson, who was still standing there, trembling with rage and disgust._

_“Hamilton’s right,” the President announced, “we’ll send a Statement of Neutrality as soon as possible, we cannot wait any longer to take a stand.”_

_He dismissed the meeting, and everyone hurried to leave the room. Alexander followed Washington right after casting an apologetic glance to Thomas, who remained in the room with Madison – the former still frozen in his position, while the second one was pacing back and forth and coughing violently._

_[Statement of Neutrality, April 1793]_

* * *

Thomas shook Madison’s hand and set out in the cold streets of Philadelphia. His first month back to work had been very stressful; after his four-years retirement in Monticello he’d grown used to a quieter and simpler lifestyle, completely dedicated to gardening and to his many interests. He’d had the time to heal his wounded soul and pride, the time to put his hands into the soil and recover – however, all the time in the world couldn’t heal his heart anymore. Not differently from when Martha had died, he’d spent a long period completely alone and had then locked all his emotions behind his snobbish and self-confident public mask; nevertheless, unlike Martha’s farewell – she didn’t want to leave him, it wasn’t their choice – his last break up had consumed him in a different way. The hope to get Alexander back had never really gone away. He’d found himself writing letters to Alexander at least a hundred times, asking him to meet or to forgive him; and, every single time, he’d burned the letters and had succumbed to desperation. After Hamilton’s visit to Monticello, he’d had to crush his own hopes once more in order to go on.

The greatest happiness of the last four years had been his family: his daughters – Polly in particular, who was still unmarried and had often accompanied him in his archaeological expeditions – his first grandson, Thomas, and his two granddaughters, Anne and Ellen. Thanks to them, he’d found the strength to get up every day and, most importantly, he’d rediscovered his faith in humankind and the goodwill to fight for the inalienable rights he’d once listed in the Declaration, the ones he still believed in. After three years in almost utter isolation from the public world he’d finally felt strong enough to fight again for his ideals – screw Hamilton and all his Federalists. They’d both resigned from Cabinet at the end of 1793, but Alexander was still holding most of the power in the government; why should it be Thomas to give in and surrender to the Federalists? He wouldn’t be stepping aside anymore. When Madison had asked him – again – to run for President, he’d said yes.

“Mr Vice President,” a carriage pulled over and Burr’s face appeared from its window, “can I give you a lift?”

“Mr Burr,” Thomas waved at him, accepting his offer, “thank you, it’s freezing tonight.”

Thomas smiled at him – he didn’t really have reasons to hate him now, and even before he’d been avoiding him only because Hamilton was jealous. However, as Burr started to talk, he immediately regretted accepting the ride home.

“Actually, I’m very happy of this opportunity, I wanted to talk to you about something,” he rubbed his hands together and went on, “I’ve been thinking about those check stubs we found some years ago – about Hamilton’s relationship with Reynolds.”

“What about them?” Thomas’s smile disappeared at once.

“Well, Adams’s attempts to keep Hamilton away from the Cabinet aren’t working, and we know that he’s controlling all the three departments of Treasury, State and War, right?”

“Right.”

“So what about choosing this moment to end his political career?”

Thomas hesitated – of course, Burr knew nothing about Alexander’s innocence on that matter. He didn’t know that it was all an amorous connection with that horrible man.

“Burr, we still don’t have any proof that those money weren’t his.”

“Do we really need proofs?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Well, if I happen to drop the documents to a newspaper – let’s say the Aurora, whose editor is literally yearning for anything to drag Hamilton’s name through the mud,” he feigned an innocent smile, “the accusations would be public, and that alone would be enough to plant the seed of doubt in the minds of his followers. He would be ruined and, since Adams hates him so much, the Federalist party would broke into fragments… assuring our victory for the next elections.”

Thomas stared back at Burr’s satisfied face for what it seemed to be an eternity, without uttering a word. When the carriage arrived in front of Thomas’s hotel and stopped, Burr was still waiting for an answer.

“Do it.” Thomas got out of the carriage, without looking back.

* * *

Alexander sat in his study, looking at the fire with pensive eyes. He’d been working the whole night on an essay against Adam’s last political decisions, until he’d opened one of his books - a collection of essays about diplomacy in wartime - and had found a single word scribbled in black ink on its first page. It was Jefferson’s signature. The memory of the exact moment when Thomas had signed it came back to him at once – it was the summer of 1792 and they were spending some weeks alone in an almost abandoned New York. Eliza and the kids had gone to Albany to spend their summer upstate with the Schuylers, and the majority of the NYC’s population had opted to move to the countryside. Alexander took the book in his hands, tracing the line of Thomas’s name with his fingertip.

_“Did you bring a book with you?” Thomas scoffed him, taking the book from him with an incredulous face._

_“Hey, give it back!”_

_“First of all,” Thomas listed, holding the book higher than Alexander’s grasp, “I’ve got a library full of books and you don’t have to take yours in here.”_

_Alex tried to punch him in the stomach, as he usually did when Thomas took advantage of his height, but this time Jefferson was ready and blocked his fist with his free hand, laughing._

_“Secondly,” he continued nonchalantly, “we only have four days left to stay together, you should dedicate your attentions to me. I’m confiscating the book.”_

_“You what?”_

_“You heard me,” he laughed, escaping from the library with the book, “in fact, I think I’ll keep it,” he teased while heading to his bedroom, “you brought it to my house after all, it means it’s mine now.”_

_“Would you explain the logic behind this reasoning?” Alexander faked a frown while following him to the bedroom._

_“You’re mine too, you know,” Thomas winked and, dipping a quill into some ink, he signed the book, “the autograph is free only for you, my love.”_

_“How dare you!” he jumped on Thomas, rolling on the bed and laughing with him._

_“Hey, you’ve scribbled a whole book of mine, aren’t we even now?”_

_“Mhmh, I suppose.”_

_Some hours later, they were laying on the bed – their clothes scattered all around the room. Thomas suddenly got up with a cunning smile on his face and Alexander doubtfully looked at him._

_“What are you doing?”_

_“Stay still, love, please,” he came back to bed and gave him one of his smart-ass smiles, “do you trust me?”_

_“Not at all,” Alexander wrestled to get out of the bed, but Thomas was quicker –_

_“Voilà!”_

_“What did you do?” Alex had felt something cold and sharp touching his skin for a second, just over his shoulder._

_“I signed you too,” he laughed, “now you belong to me as well.”_

_“YOU WHAT?”_

Alexander was surprised to hear a laughter coming out of nowhere. He looked around for a minute before realizing he was the one who’d laughed; he looked down once more at Thomas’s signature with a sad sigh, the ink spoiled by his tears.

The following morning – after three full hours of sleep – he stepped into the Presidential house with his usual irritating fashion, doing a lot of noise and yelling at the man who worked at the desk, whose only fault was trying to stop him from entering the meeting room. Thomas, who was holding the meeting in place of Adams, suddenly heard the noise outside and almost smiled when Hamilton’s voice came through the close doors.

“Do you know who I am? No? Well, I’m also a lawyer, if I were you I would be careful when touching me – that’s harassment, put your filthy hands off me, you pervert!”

Thomas opened the door and witnessed to one of the most ridicule images ever. Hamilton was wrestling to escape the man’s strong grip, while the latter was trying to lift Alexander’s whole weight by grabbing him from the collar of his jacket and the belt of his trousers, as if he wanted to throw him out like a rubbish bag.

“Mr Scott, you can let him in, he’s the former Secretary of Treasury,” Thomas explained, trying not to giggle.

“Thank you,” Hamilton tried to recompose himself, looking up at Thomas with a bright red face, “who was that giant?”

“He’s a guard,” Jefferson answered, looking annoyed “your fellow federalists have decided to hire guards now, congratulations.”

“Hey, I don’t like him too,” Alexander started to say, but the vice president interrupted him.

“We were having a meeting, Mr Hamilton, is there any reason for your interruption today?”

“Oh yeah, right,” he opened his suitcase, waving some papers, “I’ve got some documents I’d like to discuss with McHenry.”

“The Secretary of War – that McHenry?”

“Who else?”

“Look, Hamilton,” Thomas hesitated before going on –

“What?”

“You can’t stay here, the President doesn’t want you to run his Cabinet, and I agree with him for once.”

“Oh, I see,” Alexander narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth at the taller man’s words, “you can’t stop me, Jefferson, I’ll continue doing what’s best for our nation and I won’t let you Democratic-Republicans win so easily – just you wait.”

Suddenly, Alex felt his back colliding on the wall behind him and saw Thomas’s threatening face getting closer, until it was only a couple of inches from his. Alexander held his breath and his heart started to race – was he so desperate to let Thomas kiss him like that after almost four years? Yes, he was.

“Listen, you jerk,” Thomas hissed angrily, “I don’t fucking care if Washington always did everything you told him to, including turning his back to France when our allies – when our friends – needed us the most. I won’t let you rule this Cabinet while I’m vice president.”

Okay, well, he probably didn’t really want to kiss him then. Alexander forced his brain to think rationally; Thomas had been very clear when he’d broken up with him – he didn’t want him, he didn’t love him, he despised him. Nevertheless, Alexander still loved him and was afraid that his eyes would have given his feelings away if he hadn’t pushed Thomas away. And so he did. He violently shoved Jefferson away from him, entered the room, where five people were looking at them in suspense – they were probably hoping for a fight – and dropped the documents in front of McHenry.

When he turned back to Jefferson with his arrogant face, Alex saw something very different in Thomas’s eyes – he was hurt. Something inside him desperately longed to hug him, but he forced himself not to and stood there for a moment, trying to read Thomas’s expression in those precious and rare moments when he let his mask of perfection slide.

_“How could you do this to Lafayette?” Thomas was shouting, completely out of himself, “how could you do this to me?”_

_“Thomas I’m sorry,” Alexander was standing in the library, while his partner paced angrily around the room, yelling at him, “I know I deserve your anger, but I did what I think it’s best for our Nation.”_

_“To support those fucking British you love so much, rather than our friend?”_

_“It’s not about friendship, goddamn it Thomas,” Alexander groaned – he didn’t want to talk about politics at home, that was their number one rule, and now they were fighting almost every day, “you’re being irrational, we can’t –_

_“I’m not rational? Do you even listen to yourself?” Thomas burst out, “We’re talking about ALLIES, for god’s sake, we’ve signed a treaty with them – what if they did it to us while we were fighting for our freedom?”_

_“First of all, you weren’t even fighting, so stop talking as if you know a thing about war,” Hamilton heated up, “and I’ve already told you – they didn’t do it in the spirit of friendship, but only to weaken England. Welcome to the real world, Thomas, that’s politics!”_

_“Do you think that Lafayette came here and risked his life only as a political move?”_

_“It’s not what I’m –_

_“He fought for his IDEALS, the same ones you’re spitting on right now.”_

_“You know what,” Alexander grabbed his coat and headed to the door, “I won’t discuss this with you right now, you’re obviously upset because your precious French revolution isn’t going as you expected, and you’re giving me the fault for every fucking thing – well, this scapegoat is out.”_

_The door slammed and Alexander heard something crashing on it as soon as it was closed – damn, the bottle of his favourite whiskey was gone._

“I can see through the cracks of your perfect façade, Mr vice president,” Hamilton whispered, “you’ll do nothing to stop me, as you’ve never done it before.”

“We’ll see.”


	23. Chapter 23

“Have you read the newspaper today?”

“Not yet, why?”

“I was reading the _Aurora_ this morning, and I read something extremely interesting, yet not really unexpected, about Hamilton.”

“Oh my, what does the newspaper say?”

“It seems he’s accused of fraud against the State,” the first voice explained, “papers had been found demonstrating his direct connection with a man called Reynold, to whom he’d been giving huge sums of money while he was Treasury Secretary.”

“I’ll buy the _Aurora_ right away, I can’t wait to read it,” the second man laughed, “I hope he’ll be imprisoned, the whole lot should be sent away from the government.”

Alexander choked on his morning coffee and coughed for several minutes – he was used to bad press, especially on the _Aurora_ , which was a Democratic-Republican newspaper, but when they mentioned the name ‘Reynold’ he felt fainting.

He rushed out and bought a copy of the _Aurora_ , reading the accusations against him with a shocked face – Burr wasn’t fooling around then, he’d been true to his word and had made his move against him.

“You don’t know who you are fighting against, Burr,” he muttered threateningly to his paper, heading right back home.

He sat at his desk with his coat still on and drew out his quill, the one Thomas had given him for Christmas, and that’s when the truth hit him: Burr thought him guilty, but Thomas and James knew he was not, and yet they hadn’t stopped him to publish those false accusations. The final decision on the matter had not been Burr’s to take. It’d been Jefferson’s.

Despite feeling betrayed as he’d never felt before, he didn’t shed a single tear and dipped the quill into the ink, determined to fight back. He knew how to respond to their accusations – he’d write his way out, as he’d always done.

* * *

“Thomas!” James opened the door without knocking – something very unusual for him.

“Jeez James wait a minute, I’m still not dressed,” Thomas threw him a shoe and James closed the door, blushing violently.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, with a mortified voice, “hurry up, you need to read the paper.”

“What is it this time?” Thomas opened the door in a minute, perfectly dressed in his magenta suit, “if it’s another article about the benefit of a national army, I swear I’ll –

Thomas didn’t even finish the sentence, because the title on the newspaper left him speechless. He couldn’t believe Alexander had really done something so stupid.

“The Reynold Pamphlet,” he murmured, and snatched the paper out of James’s hands, “why would he do something like this?”

“I think the deal has been to sacrifice his private life to save his public one,” James shrugged.

Thomas read it aloud and they stopped several times to comment the boldest lines and to pity Mrs Hamilton for the humiliation she would soon face. Thomas had just put the kettle on when an angry voice came from outside, along with a violent bang on the door.

“Jefferson, open the door, you asshole!”

Thomas and James exchanged a knowing look and stayed silent for a moment, both hoping that Hamilton would just go away.

“I know you and Madison are in there, I talked with the guy from the front desk.” Another bang at the door – was he kicking it?

“Stupid hotels,” Thomas muttered before getting to the door and opening it with an ice-cold face, “Mr Hamilton, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Alexander closed the door with an expression that was beyond his usual anger, and followed Thomas in the kitchen, nodding to Madison, who was sitting at the table with a cup of tea; James hadn’t recovered from the shock of the Reynolds Pamphlets yet, and kept looking at Hamilton with a positively stunned face.

“Thomas,” Alexander called him by his first name, and Jefferson simply froze on the spot, “now stop.”

“What do you mean?” he hissed back.

“I know it was you who told Burr to public the accusations against me, and I can see you were reading the newspaper, so you already know what my answer is,” Alexander took a deep breath, “so now you’ve successfully ruined my life, congratulations – we are even.”

Thomas looked at him with unemotional eyes, but suddenly crossed his arms on his chest; meanwhile, Madison didn’t know whether to stay and enjoy the show or run away.

“I can only imagine Eliza’s reaction to my pamphlet, but I can take a guess,” Alexander’s eyes filled with angry tears, and he stopped for a minute before going on – he didn’t want to cry in front of Jefferson and Madison, for god’s sake – “so I’m here to tell you that you can stop torturing me. I know I’ve ruined your life, but after that I stayed away from you as you asked me to. When you came back I tried to act as we’d always done before being together; I’m only trying to do my job, and I’d never imagined you would be able to play so dirty.”

“But here we are,” he continued, looking at the floor and clenching his fists, “and I guess what I’m trying to say is that I understand why you did it, I know that you hate me and that you can’t even stand the sight of me after what I did to you and to Lafayette, but now please stop – you’ve already taken everything you could from me.”

Another minute passed and no one talked. Alexander fixed his gaze on the floor of the kitchen and focused on the tiles’ pattern in order to stay calm; Thomas stood there without moving a single cell, and Madison started to wish he’d gone away earlier.

“Well, I think I’ll go,” he got up awkwardly and headed to the door, “good day Thomas, Mr Hamilton.”

He closed the door quietly and went away, finally catching his breath and coughing a bit.

_Alexander was completely worn out by the last weeks’ Cabinet meetings. Washington had asked him to draft a statement of neutrality and he’d already had to modify it four times to change some lines or add some details in order not to insult their former allies, and at the same time not to appear too friendly towards Britain. Moreover, he and Thomas had been fighting over everything lately, and he’d spent the last week avoiding him out of exasperation. But that night they had a date – Thomas had asked him to stop by for dinner and Alexander had all the intentions to spend a lovely and perfectly happy night with him._

_“Honey, I’m home,” he announced humorously while stepping into Thomas’s house._

_“In here,” Thomas called him from the dining room, “it’s almost ready, pour yourself some wine while you wait – oh my, love, you’re beautiful tonight.”_

_“You’re not half bad yourself,” Alexander smiled, “nice apron by the way.”_

_He step closer to claim a kiss, but Thomas clumsily stuffed a bottle of red wine and two glasses in Alex’s hands and went back to the kitchen. He returned after a while with rice soup, cold beef and cheese, and they spent a pleasant and, for once, uneventful evening. It seemed as if they were both tired of quarreling and were carefully avoiding all the dangerous topics. After dinner they moved to the library as usual, bringing the bottle of wine with them._

_“Alexander, there’s something I want to tell you,” Thomas had been fidgeting the whole evening, and his voice suddenly grew very tense, “I’ve resigned from my office, I’m out at the end of the year.”_

_“You’re kidding,” Alexander looked at him with a confused face, “why would you do that? Why haven’t you talked with me before doing it?”_

_“Because,” Thomas looked at him straight in the eyes, “you’re the reason why I’m going away.”_

_“I – I don’t understand –_

_“Alexander, I can’t take it anymore,” Thomas burst out, “I don’t really have a voice in the Cabinet because Washington does whatever you tell him to; I’ve spent the last year trying to fight for a right cause and I’ve lost; I’ve tried with all my strength to save a friend and I’ve failed.”_

_“But we saved Lafayette’s wife and kids, it’s a huge victory.”_

_“That’s because you fought along with me on that single matter,” Thomas’s eyes filled with tears, “we could have achieved anything if only you’d supported me; and the worst part is knowing that all my failures have been your victories, and that the only thing that has stopped me to help a friend and to fight for my ideals was the man I loved”_

_“Loved?” Alexander stood up and moved closer to Thomas, grasping his hands and looking up at him with wide and scared eyes, “don’t – don’t you love me?”_

_“I don’t know,” Thomas answered slowly, his voice quivering, “from the moment I read Adrienne’s letter I’ve never stopped suffering, and you have never been there for me – in fact, you’ve been working against me the whole time.”_

_“But we agreed that we wouldn’t confuse work and private life, I’ve only –_

_“Can’t you see? There’s no distinction anymore,” Thomas’s voice broke for a moment, “you know how much Lafayette is important to me, we’ve been more than simple friends, and for once in my life I could’ve actually had the power to help him, but in the end I was completely helpless – it’s not about work, Alexander, you broke my heart by acting like that.”_

_“I didn’t meant to, Thomas, please forgive me,” Alexander was sobbing by now, and Thomas took him in his arms, knowing that it was for the last time._

_“I’ve made up my mind, Alexander, I’m off to Monticello in a week.”_

_“A week?” Alexander almost yelled, “if you wait a couple of weeks more I can organize my work and come with you; and then perhaps I can come visit in December and –_

_“Alexander,” Thomas hesitantly moved away from him, “I don’t want you to come with me.”_

_Alexander looked at him as if he’d just talked in another, alien language. Then the situation hit him: Thomas wasn’t simply resigning from work, he was breaking up with him. He suddenly felt extremely weak and collapsed on his knees, covering his face with his hands and sobbing desperately. Thomas sat next to him and gently patted his back until Alex was able to speak again._

_“But you promised – you told me that our love would’ve been stronger,” he wept, “you promised, I believed you”_

_Thomas was feeling terribly miserable. The previous year had stripped him of all his strength, had wounded his pride and had crushed his heart in many different ways. The love he felt for Alexander was still there, but it’d been hurting him so much lately that he’d finally decided to do something. And he’d decided to go away from everything and everyone, including Hamilton._

_However, seeing Alexander in that state was making him feel even worse – in the last months they’d grown so apart than Jefferson had started thinking that maybe Alexander didn’t love him anymore, but now he knew he’d been obviously wrong._

_And then, Alexander suddenly said something that made his blood freeze._

_“I’ll talk to Washington, I’ll make him change his mind about France.”_

_“What?”_

_“Please Thomas, I’ll do anything, but don’t leave me – I love you.”_

_For a second, just a tiny short moment, Thomas had been tempted to say yes, to force Alexander to go against his own ideals and suggest Washington to enter the war. But Thomas didn’t want Alex to trade his ideals for love and so he did something unforgivable – he lied in the worst way possible._

_“Do you think I could ever forgive you? Even if you convinced Washington, it’d be too late now,” Thomas stood up and distanced himself from Alexander, “and if there’s something I despise the most, it’s the people who can’t stand for their beliefs – you’ve ruined my life and now you’re showing yourself for what you really are: a liar. You’re poisoned by ambition, you don’t give a shit about love.”_

_Thomas stopped, breathing laboriously – among all the lies, he really believed the last thing he said and it hurt to say it out loud._

_“Thomas, what –_

_“I don’t want to see you anymore, Alexander, I’m going away because I can’t stand the sight of you and I want you out of my life.”_

_He stood there, trying not to cry and not to panic, while Alexander wailed all his tears, begging him not to leave him. In the end, after what seemed to be hours, Alexander stood up, his eyes emptied of tears and light, and walked away without another word._

_After hearing the door slamming close, Thomas fell into pieces at last – and he hasn’t felt complete ever since._

“Are you going to say something?” Alexander finally looked up from the floor and met Thomas’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” Jefferson’s face was unreadable, “I didn’t think you would do something like this, I didn’t want to ruin your life.”

“You knew the accusations were false.”

“Yes, but I only wanted to spread some rumours – your wife has never really believed any of them, so I didn’t think she would really consider this one.”

“You should have known that I wouldn’t stand aside – you told me once that I would sacrifice love out of ambition, so I guess you were right after all.”

Thomas sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to find the best way to say what he wanted to; he couldn’t tell Hamilton that he’d felt betrayed by the fact that Alexander had gone on with his life as if nothing had happened, while he’d needed three years by himself to recover – well, sort of.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“What about wine?”

“It’s 10 am.”

“Ok, let’s go for tea then,” Alexander flopped on a chair and crossed his arms on the kitchen table, burying his face in there while waiting for Thomas to make tea.

“Here,” Thomas came back and sat before him, “we need to talk.”

“I’ve already told you everything.”

“I know, but I haven’t,” Thomas cleared his throat and sipped his tea nervously, “and I’ve just realized that I’m still angry at you for things that happened years ago... and I may have ruined your marriage because I haven’t been honest with you when I should.”

Alexander was taken aback by Thomas’s confession, and looked at him with such a confused face that Thomas’s felt his heart heating for the first time after years.

“You were right, I was pointing my finger at you for everything, even the things that were out of your grasp. I was so hurt by the situation that I desperately needed someone to blame, and even though you had your fair share of guilt, it wasn’t nice of me to blame you for every single thing. I guess that our last year together wasn’t easy for you either, I was always yelling at you, Washington was demanding the impossible from you and... Lafayette was your friend too.”

“I wrongly thought that all those horrible things were happening because you were stopping me from doing my job, and so I decided to quit and go away,” he continued, trying not to stop now that his train of thoughts was finally getting out of his mouth, “but it was a huge mistake and if I’d only talked with you about my feelings, we would probably still be together now. You see, I still loved you when I left you, but I was so confused that I mistook the hate I was feeling for the whole situation with what I felt for you. And also, I lied. I’ve never despised you, and I didn’t want to be so hurtful, but I knew you wouldn’t ever let me go... and so I did what I had to and I broke my promise.”

“I really believed about you caring more for your career than for me, because in that situation you worked better than I did, and I felt as if your victories were taking something away from our relationship; and that was wrong too. When you told me you’d make Washington change his mind about the war, I got the proof you would put me even before our fucking nation, but I was blind with anger and sorrow and I lied to myself. You’ve never ruined my life, Alexander, and it was really upsetting to know how quickly you were ready to believe that it was true, even after I’d told you millions of times that you’ve in fact _saved_ my life.”

With every single sentence a piece of the wall Thomas had built around himself fell down into pieces, and he found himself breathing more freely.

“After going away, I’ve spent three years trying to get over you, but I’m not there yet,” Thomas smiled bitterly to himself, “and when we finally met again, you were your old self, happy and carefree as usual, while I was still falling apart without you.”

Alexander was holding his breath without daring to speak – was Thomas really saying that he’d missed him?

“And that’s when Burr asked me again about the check stubs. I could have ordered him to back off, but instead I told him to publish them because I wanted to eradicate those feelings that I still had for you... the ones that still hurt every single time I saw you,” Thomas paused for a second, looked at Alexander and then covered his face with his hands to hide his shame, “and now I am the one who’s ruined your life, and I could’ve prevent it if I had only talked to you from the beginning.”

“Are you telling me,” Alexander’s voice was barely audible, he was still too shocked, “that during these last three years you’ve missed me, even though you never wrote to me once –

“I tried, but –

“And even though when I showed up in front of your house you almost kicked me out,” his tone grew louder and louder until he was shouting, “and the following morning you disappeared, leaving me a fucking note as if I was a fucking hooker?”

“I behaved poorly, I know – I was scared.”

“And wasn’t I? Wasn’t I scared to death when I travelled all the road down to Virginia just to hear you say that you didn’t want me?”

“I’m sorry, love, I –

“Don’t you dare call me like that,” Alexander got up so violently that his chair fell down on the floor, “don’t you fucking dare – I thought you published the documents because you hated me and you didn’t give a crap about me, but this is even worse. How can you even look at me right now, knowing that not only you’ve been lying to me for years, letting me believe that I’d ruined your life, but you’ve also destroyed my marriage?”

Thomas froze on the spot, cursing himself for his last slip, and finally dropped his gaze – Alexander was right, he didn’t have the right to look him in the eyes after what he’d done.

“I’m sorry, Alexander,” he whispered, and listened to his steps as he headed outside the apartment, slamming the door behind him, “I love you,” he confessed to an empty room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know we should all hate Thomas for what he did but he's so adorable I just can't-


	24. Chapter 24

“I was thinking of going to Monticello next week,” Thomas hummed quietly to James while scribbling one of the many letters he had to send, “since Adams is here for once, we could start our Christmas holidays a couple of weeks earlier. What do you think?”

“Actually, that’s not a terrible idea, I miss Dolley,” Madison sighed, thinking of his wife, “but while my reason to rush home is more than acceptable, why would you want to go away earlier?”

“No reason.”

“You can’t lie to me, Thomas.”

“Ugh,” Thomas groaned, looking up from his letters, “all right, do you want me to say it out loud?”

“Please.”

“I can’t face Hamilton after what I did, James,” he complained, “when his wife called him back to New York last month I thought that maybe I hadn’t completely messed up with his life, but then he came back with all his luggage and I – I don’t know, I have to go away.”

“Again?” James raised an inquisitional eyebrow.

“Hey, Monticello it’s my healing place,” Thomas answered, a bit surprised by his friend’s remark, “you should understand me, you’re always complaining about missing Virginia.”

“Yeah, but while you’re hiding in Monticello to lick your wounds, do you ever happen to think about the people you leave behind?”

Thomas frowned, searching for something to say. In the end, he simply shook his head and returned to his letters, without answering – after all, he and Hamilton had been apart for more than four years, and he’d already ruined Alexander’s life... so what could ever happen in a short time-span of a month anyway?

* * *

Alexander was alone in the world. Again. He knew he had the strength to go on – he’d been strong enough to take care of himself when he was only twelve; he’d been brave and resilient during the war and again during the years when he’d supported the Constitution and their newborn nation; even more when he’d had to go against Thomas to stand for his ideals. But, after marrying Eliza, he’d thought he was finally part of a family again –the Schuyler’s family – and now that hope had gone away forever. It had disappeared the moment when Eliza had called him back to NYC and had asked him if Maria was the only person he’d been cheating on her with. Alexander had hesitated. And Eliza had understood.

_“Does this have something to do with your infidelity?” she sobbed, waving an object that made Alexander freeze on the spot._

_As usual, the truth was plainly written on his guilty face, and he didn’t have to answer to confirm Eliza’s suspects – she was waving an embroidered tissue, with the initials “T.J.” on a corner._

_“It’s not what you think,” Alex started to say, his voice trembling so much he had to pause before going on, “you’re misunderstanding the –_

_“Don’t lie to me Alexander,” Eliza stopped him, looking up with sad and imploring eyes, “don’t I deserve the truth?”_

_She deserved it, of course she deserved the truth – but that would mean to break her heart and be probably denounced for sodomy. A lot of women accused their husbands in order to gain revenge after being cheated on. Was it his destiny? Could Eliza really do something like that to him?_

_“Yes, honey, you deserve the world,” he sighed, defeated._

_That night, he confessed everything to her, from James Reynolds to Thomas Jefferson. He gave her the means to send him to prison, or even to death, if she wanted to. He promised her that he wouldn’t cheat on her anymore, neither with men nor women. But Eliza had always known him better than himself, and this time too she was more perceptive than he’d expected._

_“Do you love me?” she sobbed, shocked by the news, “have you ever loved me?”_

_“My sweet, sweet Eliza, of course I love you,” Alexander hugged her gently, “I love you more than anything in the world, it’s just that –_

_“It’s not enough,” she concluded, hugging him back._

_“I’m sorry, I’ve never wanted to hurt you,” Alex sobbed with her._

_“Do you still love… him?”_

_Silence._

_“I do.”_

She had sent him away. She was angry and hurt and needed time to deal with everything. But she’d swore that she wouldn’t expose him nor Thomas, and had told him that he was free to love anyone he wanted – she would always be by his side, she’d said. He didn’t deserve such a wonderful human being in his life, Alexander was utterly sure of that, and he’d returned to Philadelphia with a mixture of confused emotions and an intense loneliness that followed him everywhere he went.

He was drinking alone at the pub on Christmas Eve. Eliza’s last letter had given him some hope, she seemed to be slightly less angry at him, but she hadn’t asked him to join them for Christmas and so he’d stayed in Philadelphia during the break, spending his days mostly working until he fell asleep – occasionally drinking till he fell asleep. He didn’t know many people in the capital and most of his co-workers had gone home for the holidays, so he had no one to spend Christmas Eve with, and he’d decided to go to the pub – strangers’ company was better than no company at all. He had just asked for another beer when –

“Alexander?”

“Aaron Burr, sir,” – shit, what had he done to deserve all this pain? – “what are you doing here?”

“I always spend the holidays here,” he shrugged and then added with a sad tone, “or at least since my dear Theodosia passed away three years ago – I don’t have any family to spent Christmas with”

“Shit Burr, I didn’t know that,” Alexander lied – of course he knew it, but he’d never really considered Burr’s situation, “do you want to join me?”

“Are you sure?”

“Hell yes, it’s Christmas, we can put our resentment aside for once.”

Burr happily took the seat next to him and sipped his quietly beer for a couple of minutes. They remained silent for a while, it was nice to have company, even if it was only Burr.

“Alexander,” he spoke after he’d finished his beer, “I want to tell you I’m sorry for the accusations on the paper.”

“I don’t want to talk about –

“Thomas made me publish that shit,” he continued, looking abashed and regretful, “when I found the check stubs I thought about talking with you, but then Madison and Jefferson told me to wait for a more propitious moment.”

Alexander literally stopped breathing for a minute – it was true, Thomas had told him the same story.

“And after becoming vice president, he’s asked me to threaten you first, and to publish the accusations when you didn’t step back,” he continued, looking carefully to catch every reaction, “I’m sorry, Alexander, I know we haven’t been the best of friends lately but I want to make it right, if you’ll let me”

“I – I don’t know what to say,” Alexander tried to control his expression in order not to give too much away, but he was astounded by Aaron’s words, “I knew that Jefferson wanted me out, but I thought you were working _with_ him, and not _for_ him.”

“Well, I’m done working for Jefferson,” Burr replied quickly, “Madison and I did everything we could to try and stop him, but he really hates you.”

“I know.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“I don’t know, Burr.”

“Can I buy you another beer at least?”

“That would do.”

* * *

Madison knocked on the front door once more before snorting and heading to Monticello’s back door, trying not to think about the last time he’d seek Thomas in the backyard and had found him making out with Hamilton.

“Thomas?”

“In the greenhouse,” Thomas’s voice called him.

James slowly entered the room, carefully avoiding all the vases and gardening tools scattered around, and silently observed his friend for some minutes. Thomas was planting some new seeds into the freshly ploughed garden, the sleeves of his jacket were rolled up to his elbows and his hands were digging in the dirt. His curly hair was secured into a ponytail and a relaxed smile was lighting up his sweaty face. Thomas had been so gloomy lately that James had almost forgotten how beautiful his best friend was when he smiled.

“It’s nice to see you happy, Tom.”

“Ah – but you’re here to take me back to Philadelphia though,” Thomas joked, even if a dark shadow suddenly covered his eyes at the thought of leaving Monticello, “I’ll be ready in an hour or so.”

“Is there any particular reason why I had to come all the way here to drag you back to work?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Thomas are we friends?” James sighed in exasperation, “can I be honest with you?”

“Of course, Jamie” Thomas looked back at him with a doubtful face.

“You’re being a complete idiot.” James seldom gave his opinion without being asked to, but when he did it, he was brutally sincere, “you refused to talk to Hamilton and walked away once, and now you’re making the same stupid mistake that you claim to have regretted. I know you, Thomas, and you’ve always been all about communicating with others, trying to understand other people’s point of view – what’s changed?”

“James, I made that one mistake years ago, but then it’s led to other millions of little mistakes that have eventually ruined Hamilton’s life – if I’d stayed away from him, that wouldn’t have happened.”

“Do you honestly think that his life would have been happier without you?”

“Maybe? I don’t know, James –

“Do you really think that being away right now is the best thing to do?”

“Why do you care so much?” Thomas retorted angrily, knowing that James was telling the truth, “why should you care about Hamilton?”

“I don’t particularly care about him, but I care about my best friend’s happiness,” James answered calmly, placing his hand on Thomas’s shoulder, “Thomas, I was there when Martha died. You completely fell apart despite all my efforts to help you. I’ve tried to be a good friend but it simply wasn’t enough.”

“You’ve been the best of friends, James.”

“But then, some years ago, when I discovered about you and Hamilton, you told me something that I’ll never forget – you said you were finally able to breathe again for the first time after Martha’s death, and to think of her without being overwhelmed by grief.”

“Yeah, I remember that night,” Thomas said quietly, “you foresaw the end of our relationship, and you were right.”

“And when I warned you, you told me that you and Hamilton didn’t care about your differences because you loved each other,” James countered, “I’ve been right only because you two have never really faced your problems – hell, you’re avoiding to talk about it even now – and in the end the situation has simply backfired on you. I think that if only you had talked with him, you would have overcome anything.”

“Are you, like, cheering for us?” Thomas tried to laugh to hide his pain, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Thomas, think about it – you’ve lost Martha and there’s nothing you can do right now to have her back. But Hamilton is alive and he still loves you.”

“You can’t know it.”

“Yes, I can.”

“What – how could you be so sure?”

“Well, I talked with him two years ago, the summer when he came to Monticello to talk with you,” Madison confessed, “I was on my way here when I met him – he was a complete mess, couldn’t stop crying and I offered him lunch.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because he asked me not to. He clearly needed someone to talk with, and I happened to be the only person that knew about your relationship,” James explained, “and so we talked.”

“What did he say?” Thomas crossed his arms and tried not to appear too desperate.

“Let’s just say that he reiterated the feelings he’d already stated on that famous New Year’s Eve – nothing has changed for him Thomas, he still loves you; he’s probably waiting for you right now.”

“But that was more than two years ago, and I’ve made other mistakes,” Thomas hesitated, “I don’t think he’s still so keen to love me now.”

“Well, you have only one way to find out, right?”

Thomas looked at James with fondness – he’d never been comfortable talking about love, let alone his best friend’s love life with the former Treasury Secretary – and a genuine smile lit his face.

“You’re a great friend, James, you know that?”

“I do my best,” he smiled back, “are you ready to go back to Philadelphia?”

“I’ve never been readier,” Thomas felt his heart floating, “let’s go get Alexander back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES! So, thank you James for making Thomas face the truth at last.  
> What do you think it will happen next? I want to know your theories :D
> 
> PS. I love your comments, thank you for every single one of them! ♥


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys ♡   
> Just aargifahifjsnschjcndasklnm I love you so much. Enjoy the chapter, don't hate me too much and let me know what you think about it!

That winter was a particularly severe season, Thomas and James spent many afternoons sitting by the fire in James’s apartment, trying to do their paperwork between a shiver and a cup of hot tea. By January’s end, a thick snow had covered the whole city, and while children waited for the morning only to dress up and go play into the white gardens and streets, the grown-ups were glad to finally find themselves under their heavy bed covers, trying not to think about the following morning. The air was dry and it snowed for days, with very short breaks in between the choreography of the snowflakes that danced on the roofs of the city.

“It’s fucking freezing,” Alexander shouted for the third time while going to work that morning, “I could’ve just worked from home today.”

“Come on, we’ll get warm once we’ll get in,” Burr laughed at his friend’s bad mood, “I thought you liked the snow.”

“I liked it because I usually got to play with my children,” Alexander sounded sad, he was missing his family very much, “but I really hate the cold, I’ll freeze to death, Aaron, I can feel it.”

“Don’t you think you’re exaggerating a lil bit?” Burr laughed and patted him on the back, “come on, let’s run the last mile, so that we can warm up a bit.”

“What? Are you serious – hey, wait!”

Alexander began to run to keep up with Burr, who actually was way more athletic than what he looked.

“I was thinking to organize something for Valentine’s day,” Aaron said nonchalantly after a couple of minutes.

“Like what?” Alexander couldn’t manage more than that, cause he was already panting; the icy air was literally hurting his lungs, but he was getting warmer so he didn’t complain.

“What about a dance? We can try to organize something in the presidential house,” he proposed, “I don’t think my house or your apartment could do with more than five guests.”

“Will it be okay for Adams?”

“He’s in Quincy again, I guess we could ask Jefferson.”

“You can ask him, I would have no chance to convince him.”

“I’ll try,” Aaron smiled at him, “hey, watch out, the street is completely frozen here –

Burr hadn’t even finished the sentence yet, when he suddenly lost his balance on the ice-covered street. He tried not to slip by twirling his arms, and closed his eyes to prepare for the fall, but Hamilton’s arms reached for him in a second and he found himself in Alexander’s grip, his face really close to his friend’s. He blinked a couple of times and saw Alexander’s face grow redder; but even before Burr realized it, Hamilton had already moved some feet away from him.

“Thank you,” Burr muttered, quite embarrassed.

“It’s nothing, I’m always tripping up too,” Alexander shrugged, still blushing, and pointed at the door “shall we?”

They entered the house and finally got to work, comfortably sitting in front of Adams’s fireplace.

It was really nice to work in there lately, since most of the staff either worked from home or haven’t even returned to the capital yet, and so Alexander and Aaron preferred to seek each other’s company at work instead of staying at home alone. But that day they weren’t destined to work peacefully, since after about an hour they’d got there, Burr’s door opened again and Jefferson and Madison rushed in, rubbing their frozen hands to get warm.

“G’morning Burr, today we should absolutely discuss how to –

Madison cleared his throat and nodded at Thomas, warning him with a knowing look. Thomas followed James’s gaze and spotted Hamilton, who had moved away from the fireplace and was working on McHenry’s desk. As their eyes met, Alexander snorted and tensed up – ‘here comes Jefferson’s telling-off,’ he thought, ‘that I’m no more part of the Cabinet and can’t stay here.’

“Mr Hamilton, I didn’t see you there,” Jefferson moved closer to his desk and cast him one of his heart-shattering smiles, “but I could sense an annoying presence somehow – now I know it was you!”

“Don’t worry, whatever presence you sensed in the room, it has already been replaced by your complete lack of style,” he retorted with a smile – why was he smiling? He should ignore and avoid Jefferson, but instead he welcomed their ancient bickering as if they were finally back to normality.

Jefferson scribbled something on a piece of paper and winked before turning away from him, walking towards Burr again.

“It was nice as always chatting with you, Hamilton, but now let the grown-ups talk, would you?”

“Go fuck yourself, would you?”

“Burr, let’s go talk in my office,” Thomas ignored Alexander’s suggestion and went away without another word.

“Thomas, what are you doing?” Madison whispered to him as soon as they were outside the office, “I thought you wanted him to fall in love with you again, rather than punch you.”

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” Thomas grinned and lead the way to his room.

Burr collected some documents and followed them; he stopped on the doorstep and looked back at Hamilton for a moment – he was looking at the desk with his mouth open and seemed particularly restless.

“Alexander, are you all right?”

“Oh, I – yes, sorry,” Alex forced himself to close his mouth and smiled shyly, “I just noticed a spelling error on a document,” he lied.

Burr smiled back and left the room, leaving him alone. As soon as Aaron’s figure disappeared, Alexander crumpled a paper and stuffed it into his pocket. He tried to resume his work but was distracted by the thought of Thomas – what did his behaviour mean? Did it mean that he was ready to be simple enemies again? That he didn’t care to be forgiven by Alexander anymore?

He went back to work and noticed that a page from one of the documents was missing; he looked everywhere but he couldn’t find it. Then, he hesitantly took the crumpled paper out of his pocket and swore – it was the thirteenth page of his report, the one he would have to copy on another paper now. He looked at the bottom of the page. In Thomas’s elegant handwriting, two words – _hey beauty_ – had made that particular page one of the most precious things he had.

“Stupid Jefferson,” he muttered, smiling nonetheless.

* * *

“The green suit?” James raised his eyebrows at Thomas, “I thought you hated green.”

“Well, contrarily to you my friend, I like colours,” Jefferson laughed, gesturing at Madison’s black suit, “and I’m fabulous in any colour, thank you.”

Madison laughed – coughing a bit after it – and searched his pockets for something; he then threw a tiny bag to Thomas, who caught it.

“What is it?”

“Dolley sent me cookies for Valentine’s day, she packed some for you as well,” James answered gleefully, “they’re horrible by the way, she cooked them herself and you know what a bad cook she is,” he added with fondness.

“You’re a lucky man,” Thomas looked at the bag – a small note wished him a happy Valentine’s Day by Mrs Madison – and sighed, trying not to focus too much on his lack of any valentine.

“Are you ready, Narcissus?” Madison mocked, trying to drag him away from the mirror, “come on, I assure you there’s not a thing out of place in your outfit and Hamilton won’t be able to take his eyes off you, but now we have to go!”

“All right, all right,” Jefferson cast another quick look to his reflection and followed his friend to the carriage.

When they arrived to the presidential house, there was already a short column of carriages waiting in front of the entrance; Thomas and James got off and walked inside, making their way through the small crowd of guests. They found a safe corner and Thomas went to grab two glasses of wine for him and James, leaving the latter to scan the room for friendly faces.

“Mr vice president,” his favourite voice greeted him.

“Mr Hamilton, I didn’t see you from up here,” he teased, knowing that Alexander hated when someone pointed out his height, “nice dress by the way, I thought Halloween was in October.”

“Not everyone can spend all his money on clothes, Jefferson,” Hamilton retorted, “I, for example, use my money to pay my employees.”

“Touché,” Thomas sighed and passed him a glass of wine, “let’s have a drink, this wine is from Burgundy, you’ll like it.”

“Don’t talk as if you knew me, Jefferson,” Alexander narrowed his eyes and refused the wine, giving the glass back to Thomas.

“But I do know you,” Thomas hummed cockily, “you didn’t change as much as you like to think.”

“Yeah, neither did you,” Alexander hissed, “that’s the problem,” and went away.

Thomas stood there, his dark eyes following the other man as he walked towards the other side of the room. Hamilton marched directly towards Burr and Thomas grinned, waiting for Alexander to unload all his anger on poor Aaron as usual; but when Alexander approached him, Burr smiled and asked him something in a friendly way, and Alex laughed.

“What the hell is happening here,” Thomas murmured to himself, confused by the scene, and hurried back to Madison.

James immediately knew that something wasn’t right with Thomas, but a small group of people had already gathered around him and so he limited to cast a questioning look to his friend, who softly shook his head and started chatting about the weather with Monroe.

Later that night, James dropped on a chair, breathless after a long hour of dancing, and searched the room for his friend; Thomas was dancing with an attractive blonde woman, whose attentions were all focused on her partner, while he was continuously looking to a distant corner of the room. James followed his gaze and saw Hamilton who was cheerfully talking with Burr and some ladies – he was probably telling them one of his engaging tales because he was gesticulating a lot, while his audience was completely absorbed by every word. After some moments, they all burst into a laughter and Hamilton friendly patted on Burr’s shoulder; then, while the rest of the company departed, Burr placed his hand on Alexander’s and kept it there for a moment too long, cocking his head in a – was flirtatious the right word? – way.

Madison looked back at Thomas, who had almost stopped dancing and was staring at them with a shocked and hurt face. He excused himself and rudely left the blonde lady alone mid-song.

“Thomas,” James called him calmly.

“James, what the fuck is happening between Burr and Hamilton?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it – do you think Burr wants to change party again?”

Thomas looked back at the two men, who were now toasting to something that must have been absolutely hilarious, since they were doubling up with laughter; jealousy seized him at once and he suddenly understood Alexander’s past wish to punch Burr in the gut.

“Have I ever told you that it was Burr who suggested me to publish the check stubs last August?”

“You, haven’t,” James sounded worried, “then why befriend him if he wanted to destroy him?”

“I think you already have the answer.”

“Well, I think you’re being jealous and maybe you’re exaggerating a bit.”

“I have to talk to Hamilton.”

Thomas left, ignoring James’s attempt to stop him, and headed to the corner where the two men were drinking. Alexander cast him a concerned look, as if he could read Thomas’s jealousy in his eyes and was worried that he’d start a fight or something. Burr’s face was unreadable as usual, and he smiled politely at Jefferson.

“Burr, Madison wants to talk with you,” Thomas lied, feeling a little guilty for James, “it’s urgent.”

“Oh – all right,” Burr looked at Alexander and added, “I’ll be right back.”

As Burr went away, Thomas turned back to Hamilton, who was frowning at him.

“What?”

“What does Madison want?”

“I don’t know,” Thomas shrugged, “do you want to get some air?”

“Thomas, it’s freezing outside.”

“Let’s just go upstairs a minute – please?”

“All right,” Alexander surrendered, he was too curious to refuse anyway.

They went to Jefferson’s office and Alexander hesitantly closed the door behind him, wondering what would people think if someone found them in that room alone at night – nothing was going to happen anyway, he thought, so he didn’t need to be so secretive.

“What do you want, Jefferson?”

“You don’t have to pretend here, Alexander, it’s just you and me,” Thomas murmured quietly.

“I’m not pretending,” Alexander leaned on the door, facing Jefferson with his usual provocative air, “you’re the next Democratic-Republican candidate for presidency, and even though I’m not Secretary anymore, I’m still the head of the opposition – we are enemies again.”

“Do you really despise me so much to loathe the thought of me as president?”

“You’d destroy everything I’ve done in the last ten years.”

“I wouldn’t,” Thomas groaned, putting the topic aside to focus on the reason why he’d asked Alexander to talk, “if our parties are foes, why are you acting so friendly with Burr?”

“It’s none of your fucking business, Mr Vice President.”

“Alexander, please, I’m just worried about you.”

“You didn’t seem worried when you asked Aaron to publish the accusations, or to threaten me.”

“What? I didn’t asked him to – I just gave him the go-ahead, it was Burr who proposed the plan to me.”

Alexander looked up at him doubtfully and remained silent for a minute, thinking.

“I don’t believe you,” he resolved.

“Fine, I know you don’t trust me right now and you have all the rights to,” Thomas raised his hands in surrender, “but can you at least listen to what I have to say?”

“Talk.”

“I don’t trust Burr and, if I remember correctly, you didn’t either. He would be perfectly able to use you for his purposes and then get rid of you – maybe he needs some information from the Federalists and he’s using you to gain more power in view of the elections, or –

“Or maybe we’re friends,” Alexander’s voice was shaking with anger, “is this your next move? You accused my integrity and took away my family, and now you want set me against my only friend left?”

“Ok now that’s enough,” Thomas burst out, “I may have agreed to publish the accusations, but it wasn’t me who forced you to cheat on your wife with James Reynold, so now stop acting as if the whole world is your enemy and start to take your rightful share of responsibility.”

Alexander stared at him with his arms crossed and a heavy frown on his face; he opened his mouth as if he wanted to argue with him, but then closed it again and smiled.

“Shit, I think you’re right.”

“Wait - what? Fuck, you can’t say such things when there are no witnesses, no one will ever believe me,” Thomas hazarded a joke, and moved closer to him, “Alexander, I’m really sorry for what I’ve done and I’ll never forgive myself for it, but – but I hope that someday you will.”

“Thomas, I –

“Please be careful with Burr, I don’t want you to get hurt,” he was very close now; he placed one hand on the door where Alexander was leaning, while the other moved to caress his hair, “my sweet, sweet Alexander.”

Hamilton was almost bewitched by the twist – if everything he needed to have Thomas’s attentions was to admit that he was right, he should definitely agree with him more often. He felt Thomas’s warm breath on his face, too close, too tempting, his lips were inches away –

“Eliza knows about us,” Alexander panicked and sputtered the first thing he could think of.

“WHAT?”

“Err… She asked me if I’d only cheated on her with Maria, and I may have confessed everything to her,” Alexander looked at the floor, the pain of that memory stil vivid in his mind.

Thomas immediately drew back and started pacing back and forth, running his hands through his hair, messing them up.

“Shit, Alexander, when did you tell her? How much time do we have before she –

“Relax, Thomas, she swore not to tell,” Alexander said with fondness, “and…” he hesitated.

“And what?” Jefferson stopped in front of him again, his dark eyes searching for answers.

“And s – she told me I’m free to love whomever I want to.”

Thomas stretched one arm, as if to touch Alexander’s face again, but then stopped mid-air and finally retreated it; he suddenly seemed scared of something.

“Are you telling me this now,” he began with a low voice, “because you think you’re in love with Burr?”

“What?” Alexander looked at him shocked, “oh my god, Jefferson – are you jealous?”

“Are you in love with him?”

“He’s just a friend,” Alexander started to lose his temper for the second time in a row, “and even if I were, you wouldn’t have a say in it.”

“Of course,” Thomas looked at him with his icy gaze – how could hazel eyes be so cold? – and turned away from him.

“Well, I have to go back to –

“If you didn’t want to stay with me anymore, why did you tell your wife about us?” Thomas hissed through his gritted teeth, still turning his back to him.

“She already knew it,” Alexander answered softly, drawing something out of his pocket, “she found this.”

Thomas faced Alexander to look at the object: it was his handkerchief, the one he’d given to Alexander on Christmas. He was suddenly filled with sweet, happy memories, and smiled slightly.

“Can I ask you one last question?”

“Shoot.”

“Did you plan to have this conversation with me tonight?”

“Not really. Why?”

“I was just wondering why you brought my handkerchief with you if you weren’t going to return it,” Thomas grinned maliciously.

Alexander’s gaze wandered from the handkerchief to Thomas, and back to his hands again. In the end, he simply snorted and staffed the item back into his pocked, opening the door.

“Shut up, Jefferson,” he cast an annoyed look back and went away, ignoring Thomas’s laughter.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter is more like two chapters together... It's been quite difficult for me to write it, so please let me know what do you think about it! ♡
> 
> Also, tomatoes were considered poisonous in the US until mid-1800s. It seems like a strange thing to say here, but you'll understand it later in the story.  
> Here are the links if you love tomatoes:  
> https://aggie-horticulture.tamu.edu/archives/parsons/publications/vegetabletravelers/tomato.html  
> https://www.monticello.org/site/blog-and-community/4-foods-jefferson-helped-popularize-america

Alexander was confused. In the weeks that followed the winter’s ball, he felt almost pressed in between Thomas’s shameless advances and Burr’s awkward friendship. He was flattered by Thomas’s perseverance; but if, at the beginning, he’d resisted him because he was still angry – and wanted Jefferson to toil for his attentions – now he was scared of being completely honest with him. They had already tried to be together, and when it’d ended it’d been terrible for both of them – too terrible to endure it a second time. Alexander still loved him, but he’d finally found a sort of balance, even though that was the darkest hour of his life – Eliza didn’t hate him, even if he hadn’t been seeing his family for many months; he’d found a friend with whom he could share his lonely moments in Philadelphia; and finally, despite his continuous clashes with Adams, work was going great. He was so scared of being miserable again, that couldn’t bring himself to try and be happy.

 _The next months will most certainly pass in a blur –_ he’d written to Eliza in his last letter – _I’m campaigning to have Timothy Pickering preferred over Adams, we can’t afford to have that madman as our president for another four years, nor to have the Democratic-Republicans rule the country._ He’d voluntarily omitted Jefferson’s name in the letter _– I hope I’ll be able to see my Betzy and my beloved children very soon, I miss you all very much and I pray for you every day._

He and Burr were spending even more time together, both campaigning for their factions – Burr for his position as vice president, and Hamilton for Pickering’s as president. Sometimes they took turns, making their speeches in front of large crowds in parks, theatres or on sidewalks. They were both skilled orators and – even if Burr was more succinct, while Hamilton could spend hours and hours only to talk about the first point of his agenda – they were usually voiceless by the end of the day. Alexander really liked that, despite the fact that he and Burr were literally working one against the other, they were still able to be friends - they often headed to the pub together after a long day of work and cured their sore throats with a couple of beers. Burr had never tried to get information from him, but Alexander couldn’t help but think about Thomas’s warning – was Burr using him, taking advantage of their friendship, even only to mitigate Hamilton’s criticism on the press?

“What are you thinking about?” Burr gently nudged him with his shoulder, “you spaced out again.”

“Shit, I’m sorry I’m being such a terrible company lately,” Alexander smiled awkwardly, trying to focus on his friend again, “what were you saying?”

“I was asking you if you want to go celebrate tomorrow.”

“Celebrate what?”

“Our efforts,” Burr said cheerfully, “come on, it’s been a couple of rough weeks, we should treat ourselves and go out for dinner or something.”

“But we always dine together,” Alexander joked, “look at this place, what more could you ask for?”

“Lovely,” Burr laughed, casting a sarcastic glance at their surroundings – it was not the worst pub in Philadelphia, but it wasn’t even the fanciest – “what about City Tavern? We could eat something more nourishing and maybe take a stroll in the park later.”

“Hell, why not?”

“Perfect,” Burr gently squeezed Alexander’s hand on the table, “I was hoping you’d say yes.”

Alexander smiled, feeling confused once more – Aaron’s hand hadn’t moved from his, tenderly caressing it with his thumb for a minute before freeing it. He didn’t seem to be aware of the gesture, as if he’d done it distractedly, while thinking about something else. The fact was that Burr had been doing this kind of things for weeks now, and Alexander couldn’t understand the reason – they’d been friend before the war, but he’d never acted like that. The memory of Jefferson bitterly warning him about Burr’s evil intentions filled his mind once more, and he resumed his meal with a frown on his face.

* * *

Thomas was walking alone in the park, trying to clear up his mind and relax after a couple of stressful weeks. The elections were very close now; Madison was doing the impossible to gather the southern votes for him, while Hamilton was openly campaigning against him – but also against Adams, so he wasn’t actually doing a bad job. Moreover, he missed his ever-growing family – Patsy had given birth to another healthy girl and was pregnant again, while Polly had got married some time before – and his peaceful Monticello. As if it wasn’t enough, he’d had many important things to worry about, such as to figure out other ways to tease Hamilton – that activity had lately become his favourite hobby. After trying to kiss him the night of the ball, Thomas had understood that Alexander was still too scared to admit that he loved him, and had therefore decided that he would wait for Alexander to take the first step. But a little flirting never killed anybody after all.

He chuckled, thinking about the previous week, when they were having a very boring day at work and Alexander was continuously sighing behind his desk. After lunch, Thomas had come back to work bringing some of the tomatoes he’d been sent right from his personal vegetable garden in Monticello; he’d nonchalantly took one of them and started eating it in front of everyone, creating quite a stir. Alexander, who knew they were not really poisonous, had giggled the whole time – earning some shocked glances from his co-workers, who were positively sure that Thomas would have died in the next few minutes. After the doctor had confirmed that Thomas was not in danger of dying, everyone’d gone back to work, and Alexander had cast him a conspiratorial smile.

The memory suddenly made him hopeful, and he headed home with a new idea, his long legs lengthening the stride while he searched his pockets for some coins. However, his plan had to be postponed – in his apartment, a note from Madison was waiting for him.

_Thomas, I’ve been informed of something of the greatest importance. Please come to my house at once, any delay could be fatal._

When Thomas arrived at Madison’s, he found his friend in extreme distress. He’d never seen him more anxious before.

“Where were you?” he immediately asked.

“I was just taking a stroll,” Thomas answered defensively, “what happened?”

“I came to talk to you as soon as I knew it... but you weren’t home, so I left you the note... but it was at least an hour ago, and we don’t have much time,” James explained confusingly.

“If we don’t have time, stop wasting it and tell me what happened,” Thomas was growing worried – what the hell had happened to make James talk as if someone was going to die?

“Burr visited me today and told me his plan – Hamilton is in danger.”

* * *

Aaron Burr was a practical man. He’d worked hard to grab a place in the Senate and, differently from his wimpy co-workers, he was not content by being Senator – he wanted the top position and was ready to do anything to achieve it. There was nothing wrong with being an ambitious man, he justified while greeting William Duane, the editor of the Aurora, that afternoon before his date with Hamilton.

“William, my friend, how are you?”

“I’m good, Aaron, and I’ll be even better after you’ll tell me about the scoop you mentioned in your letter.”

“Straight down to business,” Burr patted him on the back and looked at him with conspiratorial air, “what if I told you that I’ve found a way to get rid of Hamilton once and for all?”

“I’m all ears,” Duane grinned, drawing out his quill and paper to take some notes.

“You won’t need your quill right now, because you’ll be my witness and partner-in-crime tonight,” Burr looked around to check that no one was listening and began to explain, “after dinner, I’ll come to this very park with Hamilton, you’ll be hiding in the bushes in there – it’ll be dark so no one will notice you – and I’ll stop right in front of this tree. Then I’ll make a move to kiss him, you’ll see that he will happily welcome it, since I’ve been the object of his desperate flirting lately.”

“Then,” he went on, “I’ll push him away, calling for help, and you’ll come and rescue me from his twisted intentions. The only thing you’ll have to change in the article is a tiny detail – you’ll claim that _he_ was the one who’s tried to kiss and assault me.”

“Let us be clear – do you want me to accuse Hamilton of sodomy?”

“Exactly, and I’ll play the part of the victim – everyone has noticed how close we are, and after the Reynolds’s scandal had exposed his sexual misdeeds, people will believe out story without a shadow of a doubt.”

“Look, I know that his political views are shit, but,” Duane looked gravely at Burr, “do you really believe that he’s a – a sodomite?”

“You’ll see it yourself, William. He’ll be imprisoned at once, deported back to that insignificant island in the Caribbean where he belongs,” an evil smile twisted his face, “and he will be out of everybody’s life before next elections.”

“All right, I’ll be here at sunset waiting for you.”

“Great,” Burr shook Duane’s hand with fervour, “I’ll see you then.”

Burr left the park with his heart lighter – he couldn’t believe that moment had finally arrived; in a few hours he would be free not to pretend to like Hamilton anymore, and his only opponent left would be Jefferson. But that wouldn’t be a problem: he knew the Federalists favoured him over Jefferson. He’d become President, and Hamilton would be far away from Philadelphia, soon forgotten by everyone. He arrived in front of City Tavern and waited for Hamilton to fall into his trap.

* * *

Alexander was really excited about the dinner – he hadn’t enjoyed his leisure time in a while, since it was usually Eliza who dragged him away from his study and forced him to join the social moments of life. Well, he’d had some perfect moments with Thomas, but that was a long time ago. He dressed in a grey waistcoat with matching breeches and a coat of a darker shade, and tried to convince himself that he was not going to a date with Aaron. Most importantly, he was trying (and failing) not to feel guilty towards Thomas.

“He doesn’t _own_ me,” he repeated to himself, “we’re not together right now – and this is not even a date.”

He walked to the restaurant and spotted Burr who was waiting for him in front of the entrance, elegantly dressed as usual. The other man saw him and cheerfully waved in his direction; Alexander instantly blushed.

“Alexander,” Burr hugged him quickly and held the door open for him, “I was worrying that you’d changed your mind about the dinner.”

“I would’ve never; in fact, I’m happy we’ve decided to –

“Go for a date?” Burr ended the sentence when Alexander hesitated.

Shit, so this was most definitely a date – he suddenly wished he’d worn something nicer. But what if he’d completely misunderstood Burr’s intentions? What if it was only a dinner date between two friends? After all, Burr had been married and, differently from Thomas, had never told him that he liked him. Alex decided to keep being evasive on the matter.

“Cool,” he smiled shyly, “have you booked a table or something?”

“Do you even know me?” Burr answered with a friendly smile.

“Yup, of course you’ve booked the table,” he laughed, trying to relax.

A waiter led them to their table and listed them the menu of the day, wrote down their ordering and finally left them alone. The rest of the night went on as usual, they chatted and laughed a lot, drank several glasses of wine and Alexander started to enjoy himself – dammit, it was Burr, his friend, he wasn’t trying to have a romantic date with him, so he didn’t have to worry about choosing between him and Thomas.

After dinner they walked in silence for a while, enjoying the chilly air of the night; Burr was humming quietly, a soft smile on his face.

“You seem happy today,” Alexander noted after a while, trying to make him stop – he really liked Burr’s voice, but Thomas used to hum while cooking for him and he didn’t want past memories to interfere with his date.

“I am, it was a delicious dinner and I don’t want to end our time together so soon,” Burr looked at him with fondness, “let’s walk through the park, it’s not very far from here.”

“Hell no! Not the park Aaron, I’m freezing!”

“Come on,” he took his hand and gently dragged him, until Alexander finally gave up and followed him.

He didn’t let go of his hand though, at least until they reached the park entrance; once there, he left his hand and looked at him with anticipation. They entered the park and Alexander started shivering at once, the plants made the air even cooler, and he moved closer to Burr, who seemed to be looking around in a nervous way. Alexander stuffed his frozen hands into his pockets, and felt his left hand rubbing against Thomas’s handkerchief – he was so used to take it everywhere that he’d been unable to leave it at home even tonight. Out of nowhere, a little voice in his head asked him if he’d unconsciously decided to bring Thomas’s love token with him as a defence against Burr. Thomas’s words echoed in his memory once more – could he trust Burr? 

“Alexander wait a minute,” Aaron stopped next to a tall maple tree and gestured him to come closer, “you know, I really wanted to tell you something tonight.”

“What is it?” Alexander moved closer, getting curious at once.

“I really appreciate your friendship,” Burr gently moved a lonely strand of hair that had escaped Alexander’s ponytail, “and I was wondering if you feel the same.”

Shit, so it wasn’t his imagination, Burr had been really flirting with him this whole time and Alex had been so stupid to think that theirs was only friendship. That’s why Thomas was so jealous that night, he’d understood that Burr was threatening his place in Alexander heart. Would it be so different to kiss Burr instead of Thomas? Burr had no beard, while Alexander had always loved Thomas’s beard tickling him when they kissed…

Burr moved closer and closer, his face was inches away from Alexander’s and he was looking at his lips as if he was about to kiss him. Alexander lips parted and he felt his heart beating like a drum – did he really want it? Burr’s hand cupped Alexander’s face and he leaned over to kiss him –

“Aaron, wait.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I – I’m sorry, Aaron, you’re a great friend but… I don’t feel this way towards you, I’m sorry.”

Burr looked at Alexander as if he’d just pointed a gun at him or something – why was he so scared of him all of a sudden?

“Oh shit, Aaron,” Alex got it after a second, “I won’t tell anyone, you don’t have to worry about me... we’re friend, I would never do something like that to you.”

Burr’s face was unreadable. He forcefully drew away from Alexander and turned his back to him.

“I’d like to have some time alone, if you don’t mind,” he informed Alexander with glacial voice.

“All right,” Alexander sighed and started to walk away from him, “I’m sorry Burr, we’ll talk about it when you’re ready.”

Hamilton left and Burr stood there, completely still, until a hand shook him from his daze. William Duane was looking at him with a sympathetic gaze.

“You must write that article on Hamilton, regardless what happened.”

“I won’t,” Duane said quietly yet firmly, “I’m a journalist, Burr, not a liar. If Hamilton had kissed you tonight, I would have written the article because I would have witnessed the truth. But what I’ve seen was in fact only a poor attempt from you to kiss our former Secretary – he refused you, so I won’t accuse him of something he’s not.”

“Dammit, William, you know it’s dangerous to have him around during the elections!”

“Actually, I’ve heard that his attempts to promote Pickering over Adams had only worsened the situation of his party,” he shrugged, “anyway, I don’t care if he’s a political threat and a horrible person, I would never send an innocent person to jail.”

Duane gave Burr a last pat on his shoulder and headed away, leaving him completely alone.

Only when Burr pitifully walked away, Thomas could relax at last – he leaned on the tree trunk behind which he had been silently listening to the two men’s conversation, while trying not to go out and beat the shit out of Burr. He emerged from the darkness of his hiding place and immediately headed towards Hamilton’s house, almost running to catch up with him – it seemed that Alexander was out of danger for now, but Thomas needed to know what’d happened before his arrival.

Alexander, however, didn’t went home that night. He wandered alone around the city, trying to understand what had stopped him from kissing Burr. Did he liked Aaron? Of course he liked him, they were friends and he was very beautiful – well, he was not stunning like Thomas, and his eyes were impossible for Alexander to read, but he was handsome. Did he want Burr to kiss him? Apparently not – the moment when Burr’s lips had almost met his, the only thing he had been able o think about was Thomas. He took Thomas’s handkerchief out from his pocket and smelled it; it didn’t smell like Thomas anymore – it had been years after all – but Alexander perfectly remembered his perfume, it was impressed in his mind together with Thomas’s warmth, his dark eyes, his smile, his touch.

When he finally became aware of his surroundings, he found himself not too far from his house. He turned into Walnut Street, walking fast and trying not to think about the cold, and suddenly saw a figure sitting right in front of his door. He hesitated a moment, but then saw a full head of curly hair and recognize him at once, smiling at the sight – Thomas was half-asleep on his doorstep, his arms crossed as if to defend himself from the cold and his hair covering most of his face. Alexander softly caressed his hair, trying not to scare him, but Thomas violently started out of his sleep and looked at him with unfocused and scared eyes.

“Alexander,” he said with sleepy, rasping voice, “where the hell have you been?”

“I was at the restaurant,” Alexander omitted the last part of his night and gave a better look at Thomas – his lips where almost white, he was shivering – “shit, Thomas, how long have you been waiting here?”

“I don’t know, a couple of hours?” he croaked, “I was worried about you.”

“Come on in, you’re freezing.”

Half an hour later, Thomas was happily sitting in front of a warm fireplace, a cup of tea in his hands, a cover on his shoulders, and some bread and cheese on the table next to him – he hadn’t had time for dinner and was particularly happy to eat something at last. On the other side of the fireplace, Alexander was nervously fidgeting in his armchair.

“Do you know that restaurants usually close way before this hour?”

“Yup.”

“Alexander, were you with Burr?”

“Yes. We had – err, we had a date.”

“A date.”

Thomas didn’t look away from the fire the whole time; however, the tone he used every time they talked about Burr expressed so much revulsion that Alexander didn’t need to look into Thomas’s eyes to sense it.

“Why were you waiting on my doorstep?”

“I was missing you.”

“Tell me the truth,” Alexander snorted, “you said you were worried about me.”

“Madison told me that you and Burr had plans for tonight, and I feared he could do something… harmful to you.”

“You really don’t trust him.”

“No, and you shouldn’t either,” he sighed, “what happened?” he finally asked, his voice betraying jealousy and concern.

“He tried to kiss me – “

“What a surprise,” he commented sarcastically.

“…and I didn’t kiss him back.”

“Why?” Thomas slowly turned his gaze away from the fire, looking straight into Alexander’s eyes.

Alexander rose from his chair, his hands trembling, and made an uncertain step towards Thomas.

“It didn’t feel right,” he started to explain, “I know how I feel before kissing someone – I’ve experienced it sometimes with Eliza and I’ve felt it every time I’ve kissed you. You told me once that when you kissed me my eyes used to soften and I relaxed completely... and that was true cause I’ve always felt safe with you. But this time I was scared and confused, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Alexander moved closer to Thomas’s chair, stopping right in front of him so that he was standing in between Thomas’s legs, looking down at him, and caressed his hair again.

“Thomas, I know you are waiting for me to forgive you, but I’ve been an idiot too. The fact is that you’ve always been the best of us: you would’ve never done to me what I did to you and Lafayette; you tried to talk to me about out problems and I left every single time; and, when we broke up, I should have fought for you, I should have remembered that you loved me, I should have been strong for both of us. I’ve blamed you for everything that happened, without ever considering my role in the events. Yes, you published the accusations against me but, again, you were right – the problem was not the publication of my misdeeds, but the fact that I cheated on my wife. If it hadn’t been for you, those accusations would have been published years ago by Burr or Madison.”

Thomas was looking up at him with a shocked face – he would have never expected Hamilton to put his pride aside and ask for his forgiveness, especially after everything Thomas had done to him. Alexander hesitantly took his hands and their finger interlaced. Thomas’s heart jumped a beat.

“Are you telling me that you forgive me?”

“Yes – I do forgive you if you promise not to leave me or lie to me ever again,” Alexander’s voice was steady, but his eyes were betraying his every emotion.

“I promise.”

“Am I forgiven?”

“You are,” Thomas’s eyes were burning, “if you promise me always to face our problems together – even the ones about politics.”

“I promise I won’t ever leave the room until we’ve solved every single problem.”

Thomas let go of Alexander’s hands and slowly – really slowly – got up, following the shape of Alex’s arms and shoulders with his fingers; his eyes never left Alexander’s until he was completely upright. The cover gently slipped off from Thomas’s shoulders and silently fell at their feet, as the two men looked into each other’s eyes for a time that seemed to last forever – they needed to connect again, to recognize and trust each other again; they needed to be perfectly sure of each other’s honesty before sealing their promises with a kiss.

Finally, Alexander bit his lip in anticipation and Thomas, with a movement that had been part of his memory for so long but was yet so natural, took Alexander’s face into his hands and saw his eyes soften at once, while his hands impatiently grasped Thomas’s hair. He leaned over and closed the distance between their lips at last – in a moment, every single one of his senses was overwhelmed by their kiss.

“ _Je n’ai jamais cessé de t’aimer, mon Alexander_ ,” Thomas murmured softly, rubbing the tip of his nose on Alexander’s.

“ _Moi non plus_ … but we’ve wasted so much time –

“It was not wasted, love. We’ve had the time to acknowledge our mistakes and we won’t do them again; that’s enough for me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Alexander, we have all the time in the world now. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you,” Thomas smiled at the thought and kissed Alexander again, “my god, I’ll never get used to it, I could kiss you forever.”

“Please, do.”

Thomas chuckled and happily accomplished his lover’s request, welcoming him into his arms and snugging on the sofa.

“I can’t believe we finally made it – you’ve been such an asshole lately!” Alex teased.

“How dare you?” Thomas laughed, “Well, you’ve been a proud jerk, but I’ve learnt to love every single part of you. I said it, now you’re free to use my words against me.”

“I remind you that I’m a lawyer, so I guess that’s exactly what I always do - wait, what are you searching for?”

“Is there a button somewhere to make you shut up?”

“Ha-ha. Make me.”

Despite all the taunting and kissing, they spent the whole night talking about al the things they’ve missed of each other’s lives – Alexander doubled up with laughter when Thomas told him about Madison’s brutally honest telling-off at Monticello; Thomas felt sincerely sorry when Alexander talked about his last meeting with Eliza, and mentally noted to write a letter to her as soon as possible. When the morning rays of sun seeped through the window, they cast their bright light on a messy, yet lovely scene: Alexander was snoring on Thomas’s chest, one hand still holding tight his lover’s shirt as if he was scared of letting him go; Thomas was asleep too, laying sideways on the couch, his head flopped forwards and his arms holding Alexander. They were a complete mess, their hair was ruffled and they were still dressed in the previous night’s clothes – but they were in love, carefree and happy at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Je n’ai jamais cessé de t’aimer” = I've never stopped loving you.  
> “Moi non plus” = Me neither.
> 
> 1 - I'm sorry for the ones who ship hamburr, but that won't ever work in my fanfic 💔💔  
> 2 - ....they made it YEEEEEESSSSSSS ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡  
> 3 - If I've considered everything correctly the story will be 30 chapters long!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The elections of 1800s*  
> So I was thinking that, since in my version of the story Alexander tells Eliza about Thomas and she's pretty upset about it, he (sadly) doesn't have the chance to spend so much quality time with his family... but also, this way Philip doesn't really feel the need to defend his father's legacy - so he lives, hurray!

“G’morning beautiful.”

“Mmm… coffee.”

“I’m happy to see you too.”

Alexander threw a pillow to the figure who was happily walking around his kitchen, searching for all the ingredients he needed to make breakfast, and turned to the other side, hiding his face on the couch backrest to shield his eyes from the morning sun. Meanwhile, Thomas hummed a lovely tune that lulled Alexander back to sleep for some minutes – fortunately, when he opened his eyes again, a cup of coffee was already waiting for him.

“I most definitely love you,” he smiled at the sight.

“Are you talking with me or with the coffee?”

“Both?” Alexander grinned and stamped a kiss on Thomas cheek before accepting the steaming mug of manna dew, “you know I love how you make coffee.”

“That’s because everything I do is perfectly made, love.”

“Shut up, you charming smartass.”

Thomas giggled and sipped his coffee, enjoying every moment of the domestic routine that Alexander made so special by only being there.

“Do you have plans for today?”

“How about going back to bed?”

“How can you possibly be still tired, you literally woke up right now!”

“I wasn’t thinking about sleeping,” Alexander cast him a tantalizing smile, “you know, we could –

_Knock, knock, knock._

“Shit,” Thomas hissed at once, “were you waiting someone?” he whispered so low that Alexander had to read him lips to understand the question.

“No,” Alex was so used to holler over other people’s voices that whispering seemed completely unnatural to him, so he gestured broadly with his hands as if to help Thomas understand, “whoever it is, I’ll send him away – go hide in the bedroom.”

Thomas grabbed his coat and walking stick from the ground and hurried to the other room, while Alexander opened the door with the most annoyed face of his collection.

“Who is – oh, Aaron,” he said, genuinely surprised to see him so soon, “good morning!”

“Good afternoon to you, Alexander,” Burr smiled, amused by Hamilton’s confusion, “I didn’t think you were the kind of person who oversleeps on Sundays.”

“Shit, what time is it?”

“It’s 2 pm,” Aaron cast a quick glance inside, waiting for Alexander to invite him in, “are you busy right now? I’d like to talk about last night – I’m really sorry I misunderstood your intentions.”

“I – I’m actually sort of busy right now, yes,” Alexander shot a glance at the blanket on the floor and the two cups of coffee that were getting cold on the table before turning towards his friend again, “look, I’ll stop by before dinner ok?”

“But Alex, I –

“Bye!” Alexander closed the door right on Aaron’s face and placed his ear on it for a minute, waiting for Burr to walk away; after some time, Burr’s steps faded into the background noise of Philadelphia’s streets and Alexander started to breathe again.

He headed to his room and carefully opened the door, almost yelling when Thomas appeared out of nowhere, lifted him with no efforts and threw him on his shoulder as if he was a bag of Scottish potatoes.

“Thomas, put me down!” he roared, half-laughing, while punching his boyfriend in the back, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m bringing your ass to bed, isn’t it what you were asking for two minutes ago?” Thomas joked, gently landing him on the bed, “what happened?” he added immediately after noticing the look on his face.

“It was Burr, he wanted to talk about last night. I have to solve this thing today – Thomas wait!” Alex grabbed Thomas’s sleeve to hold him back.

“How can you still look him in the eyes after what he tried to do?” Thomas was furious.

“He only tried to kiss me, Thomas, I can’t stop being friend with him only for that – look, I know you’re jealous but you can trust me, okay?”

Thomas silently stared at Alexander for a very long moment – right, he didn’t know about Burr’s plan to have him arrested for sodomy… should he tell Alex the truth? Knowing his stubbornness, Hamilton wouldn’t listen a word, and Burr would deny everything anyway. Thomas took a couple of deep breaths to calm down and held Alexander’s hand, kissing it on the palm and then placing it on his cheek with a lovingly gaze.

“I trust you, love,” he kissed him lightly and turned to the door, “I have to talk with a couple of people as well – I’ll see you tomorrow at work?”

“You can come and sleep here tonight, if you want.”

“I’d love to,” Thomas put his coat on and cast a last smile to Hamilton before leaving in a rush.

* * *

The following months, things seemed to be perfectly balanced and Alexander grew anxious that something could go wrong any moment; he wasn’t used to that peaceful happiness anymore. He and Thomas had no problems remembering how to enjoy each other’s company – it was even better now because they could finally spend every night together and, except for those days when Thomas had to host some late meeting and couldn’t go back home to Alexander, they were always comforted by the thought of a hot cup of tea and each other’s embrace at the end of a rough day at work.

Alexander and Burr were still campaigning together every day, but Alex politely declined to dine with Aaron most of the times, claiming that he’d discovered a new passion for cooking, and heading home as soon as he could, waiting for Thomas. The day Burr had talked to him about their dinner night, he’d justified the kiss as a moment of weakness of a widowed man who’d spent the past years all alone, and Alexander had been the most understanding person in the world (“No big deal Burr, I would flirt with me too – I mean, have you noticed how cool I look today?”). In the end, they’d returned to be simple friends again. And Thomas didn’t like it a bit.

“You used to hate him – you tried to beat him out once just because he was acting friendly with me!”

“And you’ve been complaining about it forever,” Alexander retorted, “you should be happy that I’ve got at least a friend in here, everyone avoids me after what I said about Adams.”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“Let’s see if you’ll still want me tomorrow, after Timothy Pickering will kick your Democratic-Republican ass in the ballot.”

“Ha! You wish, love, but I’m sorry to inform you that your Timmy doesn’t stand a chance,” Thomas cockily winked at Alexander, before turning suddenly serious, “but, listen, I can promise you one thing – even if I were to lose the election because of you, I wouldn’t leave you Alexander, is that clear?”

“Would you be mad at me?”

“I can’t promise I wouldn’t be a little vexed, but if you were to be super nice with me for a couple of months, maybe –

“A couple of months?!”

“Just kidding, love – anyway, I think I’ve already used all my strength to be mad at you these past years.”

“Does it mean that you won’t be mad at me ever again?”

“Don’t be too hopeful about that,” Thomas sighed, holding him tight under the blankets and stamping a light kiss on his head, “tomorrow is the day – I may become the next president-elected of the United States.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Honestly? I would be honoured to be chosen as president,” Thomas said slowly, “but, you know, I wouldn’t turn into a different person or else so – no, I’m not really nervous about it.”

“I can’t believe you had a panic attack when your best friend found us kissing, but you’re not even nervous about becoming president.”

“It may have something to do with the fact that we’re not risking our lives this time,” Thomas laughed and Alexander rolled his eyes, “but maybe I should bring you with me tomorrow, it calms me to hug you.”

“Imagine what would happen if you were pronounced president-elected and, out of a sudden, you went and hugged the head of the opposite party,” Alexander shook with laughter at the thought, “I think Jay would have an heart attack.”

They speculated about all the possible outcomes of the following day’s ballot until they fell asleep – or at least until Alexander fell asleep; Thomas simply lied there, half-reclined on his elbow, caressing Alexander’s hair with his free hand and wondering about what would wait for him the following day. When Alexander woke up the following morning, the bed was empty – he was starting to get used to it, Thomas always got up at dawn, even when he had not a single thing to do; that day, however, he would be quite busy counting the votes.

Alexander decided against going out, and opted to work from home – he didn’t feel like talking with other people, and he wouldn’t know the result of the ballot before that night anyway, so he would better get to work. It eventually turned out to be the worst choice ever, since the time seemed never to tick by and he found himself looking at the clock every ten minutes. After writing all his letters, fixing a report about foreign affairs, working on a particularly difficult legal case and drinking four cups of coffee, it was no later than noon. After another interminable hour, he finally decided to go for a walk, pacing back and forth from his house to Congress Hall, were a little crowd of journalists and curious passers-by had gathered to know the results of the ballot.

He had returned home and was reading the original Latin edition of Ovid’s metamorphoses to divert his attention from the elections, when a knock at the door made him jump on his feet at once and throw himself at the door. He held the door open for Thomas – it’d started raining and his hair was adorned by millions of tiny droplets of water. His expression was blank and he didn’t say anything until he’d took off his coat and tiredly sat on the couch.

“Adams is third, he received sixty-five votes,” he announced, looking askance at Alexander, who’d curled next to him and was hanging to his words, his eyes widened by curiosity “and sixty-four votes has been given to Pickering.”

“Does it mean that…?”

“Burr and I received seventy-three votes – each.”

“Oh – OH,” Alexander realized the meaning of Thomas’s words after a couple of second, “holy shit!”

“The House of Representative will vote tomorrow,” Thomas rubbed his temples and got up, heading to the kitchen, “it’s full of Federalists – I have a feeling that Burr will be their favourite.”

Alexander didn’t know what to say, Thomas was his boyfriend but Aaron was a friend and he felt strangely attracted by both their personalities as much as he was outraged by their political views.

“Do you want me to make dinner today?” he resolved that the best thing to do was to let Thomas get some rest.

“Did you learn how to cook?”

“Hell no, but it can’t be too difficult, can it?”

“What if we cook together? You can start by chopping some onions and carrots,” Thomas negotiated, appreciating Alexander’s efforts but being responsible enough not to let him burn the whole house down.

“Whatever,” Alex snorted and started to roughly cut the carrots under Thomas’s concerned gaze.

“You should mince them, love, this way,” he placed his hand on Alexander’s and helped him handle the knife in the right way, “if you put your hand like this – yeah, mind the fingertips – you won’t risk to cut yourself, see?” he whispered to his ear and Alexander shivered slightly, but continued to carefully mince the carrots, completely absorbed by his task.

After Thomas was satisfied with Alex’s work, he added some logs to the fire to heat the stove before pouring some water into the pot, together with a couple of potatoes, a peeled tomato and some salt. When they finally ate, Alexander declared it the most delicious stew ever and was so happy that Thomas couldn’t bring himself to remind him that he’d only chopped some vegetables.

The following day, the House of Representative voted. Six times. But neither Jefferson nor Burr received the absolute majority of nine, and Thomas returned home far more stressed than the night before. Alexander played piano for him and helped him to bed when he fell asleep without having dinner yet.

After two other days, the House had already voted seventeen times, but the results hadn’t changed a bit. Thomas was stressed out and the situation only worsened when Alexander informed him that he would dine with Burr that night.

“Why didn’t you tell him right away?” Madison couldn’t believe that Thomas had been so stupid, “Burr will use him to gain the votes he needs now; goddamn it, Thomas, he’s your boyfriend and you’re being too noble or too proud to ask him to help you.”

“I can’t ask him something like that, James, I’m not being noble nor proud – I’m just too scared. I’ve done this mistake once and I’ll be damned if I lose Alexander because of this.”

“At least tell him about Burr!”

“I can’t do it now, can’t you see?” Thomas sighed and nervously ran his fingers through his hair, “if I’d told him earlier he wouldn’t have believed me, and if I tell him now he’ll think I’m trying to set him against Burr – I am so fucked.”

Madison anxiously tapped his fingers on the table for a while and, right when Thomas was about to tell him to stop, he looked up at him with his usual calm face and a hint of a smile on his lips. Thomas instantly eased up – when James gave him that look it meant that he had a plan.

“Let’s go pay a visit to William Duane.”

* * *

“Mr Burr,” Thomas armed himself with a great deal of patience and one of his I’m-obviously-only-pretending-to-tolerate-you smiles, while entering Burr’s study “thanks for having me.”

“Mr vice president,” Burr was way more skilled in faking his smiles, “you said it was important.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is,” Thomas left the door ajar, waiting for Burr to invite him to sit, and eventually took a seat without being urged to, “I’m here to demand you to withdraw from the elections and accept the second position, as we agreed.”

“Dear Mr Jefferson,” Burr grinned arrogantly, “why should I? We both know that I’m favoured among the Federalists, you’ll never going to win.”

“I’m warning you one last time,” Thomas’s smile had already turned into a more threatening one, “let’s put an end to this nonsense right now.”

“I won’t.”

They looked at each other with no pretention of sympathy at last. For a very long moment, no one talked or moved.

“Very well,” Thomas uttered low, “I suppose I’ll have to schedule a friendly chat with my long-term enemy then – let him know that you’ve tried to have him hanged for sodomy.”

“What are you talking about, I’ve never –

“Your dear friend William Duane told me something really interesting about you and Hamilton. You know, I think that, after knowing what you’ve tried to do to him, he’ll hate you even more than he hates me.”

“Why would he believe you?”

“I happen to have a paper signed by Duane himself, who testified what you asked him to do and what he’s witnessed – are you sure that you weren’t trying to take a bite of Hamilton? You seemed pretty desperate to kiss him, and he – our country’s greatest example of sexual depravity – rejected you.”

“You son of a –

“I’d be careful if I were you, Senator Burr,” Thomas got up – now was his moment to be cocky, “I’ll expect you to withdraw before tomorrow morning.”

“You know what?” Burr stood up, his eyes burning with anger, “fuck you.”

“Are you sure this is the wisest answer?”

“Hamilton will never believe neither you nor Duane – he won’t doubt my friendship,” he hissed, “but I can promise you that the first thing I’ll do after becoming president will be to destroy both of you – your names will be fucking forgotten.”

Thomas took a step towards Burr, his hand itching to slap him, but stopped. No, that was exactly what Burr wanted; instead, he took a deep breath and slammed his hands on Burr’s desk.

“Tell me, how did you manage to have Hamilton wrapped around your finger?” Thomas spat, “are you really so arrogant to believe that he won’t find out your true intentions?”

“It’ll be too late then,” Burr sneered, “you know, I’m honestly shocked you’re so interested in him – you seem almost to care about Hamilton.”

Thomas’s heart missed a heartbeat and he felt his blood run cold. Had Alexander told Aaron about their relationship?

“I’m a good observer, Jefferson, and I’ve noticed that every time Hamilton and I talked about you, Alexander would grow slightly upset – sad, not angry as he’d always felt before towards you,” Burr continued, trying to read Thomas’s reactions on his face, “also, you and Madison didn’t want those check stubs published when I found them, so I’ve come to the realization that you three had made some sort of secret agreement the night of the dinner bargain. Something that made you and Hamilton grow closer for a while – I’ve never found proofs but I’ll do it sooner or later – and that ended in an unpleasant way.”

“You’re raving,” Thomas denied, feeling extremely relieved that Burr’s guess was completely wrong – regardless being still very dangerous for both him and Hamilton.

“Tell me what happened in that room the night of the bargain.”

“You know what Burr?” Thomas headed to the door, his hand steadily gripped the handle, “Hamilton and I are political enemies, but we both have the dignity never to cross certain boundaries – differently from you, who tried to sell him out for your personal benefit. We are not like you. Smile!”

Thomas opened the door, disclosing a very satisfied James Madison and a furious Hamilton right behind it.

“You motherfucker son of a bitch!” Alexander almost threw himself on Burr, who was so taken aback by the shock of being caught that cowardly used a chair to distance himself from Alexander’s deathly rage.

“Alexander, wait – Jefferson was threatening me, I don’t really mean the things I said!”

That was Burr’s last attempt before facing the truth – Alexander was done being played by him.

“You’re so fucked Burr. You were right fearing me - your useless career is over.”

Alexander turned away and walked out of the room, followed by Madison, who hadn’t uttered a single word, and Thomas, who addressed Burr one last time before closing the door.

“Your vice presidency will be your personal hell, Burr,” he vowed.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters to go! Let me know what you think about this one ♡♡  
> PS. I rewrote the first three chapters - they're not really different, I only changed some details cause I wasn't really satisfied with them (just in case you wanna check).  
> PSS. You can find me and this story also on Wattpad now (@HardRockLikeLancelot)
> 
> Enjoy! ♡

Some days later, Alexander eventually knew about the results of the thirty-seventh ballot in a very unconventional way. He was wandering in the park nearby, keeping an eye on the Congress Hall but already confident on the outcome – he’d been writing his letters in the past days. In particular, he’d written a very hot-blooded note to Delaware’s Rep. James Bayard, arguing his choices with his usual skilful dialectics.

 _As to Burr these things are admitted and indeed cannot be denied, that he is a man of extreme and irregular ambition – that he is selfish to a degree which excludes all social affections & that he is decidedly profligate. But it is said, 1st. that he is artful & dexterous to accomplish his ends – 2nd. that he holds no pernicious theories, but is a mere matter of fact man […]. The truth is that Burr is a man of a very subtle imagination, and a mind of this make is rarely free from ingenious whimsies. Yet I admit that he has no fixed theory and that his peculiar notions will easily give way to his interest._ _Besides that, really the force of Mr Burrs understanding is much overrated. He is far more cunning than wise, far more dexterous than able. In my opinion he is inferior in real ability to Jefferson._

Bayard had been persuaded by his letter and had agreed to cast a blank ballot for Delaware and to convince Maryland and Vermont to change their vote for Jefferson. Thomas’s victory was a certainty.

It was starting to get late, the sky was already dark and Alexander was looking at a small group of children – god, he missed his family – who were being called back home by their mothers after having played hide-and-seek among the trees for the whole afternoon. Without any warning, a fist collided with Alexander cheekbone and he fell on the ground, instinctively raising both hands to his face as the pain grew stronger, only to feel another pang as something hit his stomach; he instantly curled up to protect his belly and face. Before he’d had the time to catch his breath, he received another kick – this time in the back. Crying in pain, he finally looked up to find himself face to face – or, better to say, face to feet – with Aaron Burr.

“You fucking little bastard,” he swore, completely out of himself, without stopping his assault, “I’ll kill you right here, you useless piece of shit!”

Alexander didn’t have the time to react or stand up, cause Burr had taken him by surprise and was now relentless in his fury. No one was around to help him, and Burr seemed determined to be true to his words and kill him like that.

And then, as unexpected as they arrived, Burr’s blows suddenly stopped. A moment of complete stillness followed, and Alexander hesitantly moved his bloodied fingers from his face to see what was happening. He almost had an stroke on the spot when he saw Burr with his hands raised above his head – his knuckles stained with Alexander’s blood – and, on the opposite side, Thomas with his arm stretched in front of him and his pistol pointed at Burr.

“Thomas, no,” he tried to whisper, but nothing came out from his mouth and he coughed in pain.

“Go. Away.” Thomas’s voice came out as a low growl, and his dark eyes seemed to turn completely black out of fury.

No one moved for a time that seemed to last forever. In the end, Burr turned his back to them and stepped away without a word. Thomas slowly released the trigger and put the pistol back, hiding it under his long coat.

“Thank you, Mr President,” Alexander tried to joke but he couldn’t smile without feeling pain; he let go a moan as he tried to stand up.

“Don’t move,” Thomas kneeled down and started to delicately touch his body to be sure that nothing was broken, before trying to lift him up in his arms.

“No, Thomas, I’ll walk,” Alexander protested, “what if someone sees us – it’s too dangerous.”

Thomas didn’t say anything but let him go, checking on him from a distance. They never went home together – couldn’t risk to raise suspects – and so Alexander walked in first, followed by Thomas after some minutes. He usually waited more, but that night he didn’t give a shit about other people’s suspects.

Thomas put the kettle on, poured the hot water into a bucket and went to the bedroom without a word. Alexander laid on the couch on one side, trying not to apply too much pressure on his left-side ribs – he was pretty sure he’d heard something crack when Burr had almost stepped on him. When Thomas came back and gently lifted him into his arms, Alexander tried to say something, but his mind went blank and he felt suddenly very tired; a sob escaped from his lips as Thomas’s hand slightly pressed on the side of his chest while he was put to bed.

“Thomas, I –

“Shh. I’ll take care of you, love,” Thomas’s voice was still rough, but the loving tone he used every time he talked to Alex was there, “ _Tu es la chose la plus précieuse que j’ai, je prendrai toujours soin de toi_.”

He carefully stripped him of his stained clothes and pressed the hot cloth on his skin with the softest touch ever, cleaning the blood away and warming his whole body. Halfway through this process Alexander fell asleep and was breathing heavily when Thomas tuck him in with a sigh and went back to the kitchen, carrying a bucket of reddish water.

_Alexander was violently shivering, his whole body shaken by painful fits. Thomas was next to him and tried to calm him down, caressing his face in a desperate way._

_“Please, don’t die,” Thomas heard himself say, sobbing on Alexander’s feverish body – he wanted to go find a doctor, but his body wouldn’t move, “please, Alexander, don’t leave me alone, we’ve just found each other again, please –_

_But as soon as he finished talking, his boyfriend’s face turned into Martha’s disappointed one._

_“You couldn’t save me and you won’t be able to protect him, Thomas.”_

_“No!” Thomas cried, plugging his ears with his hands._

_“Did you really believe love was enough?” Martha’s face became very pale, resembling a ghost, “if it was enough, why did I die?”_

_The ghost turned into Alexander again, but now he was covered in blood and his hands were pressed above his hip, a painful expression twisting his beautiful face._

_“If love was enough,” he panted, “why did you left me?”_

_“I’m here now, love,” Thomas sobbed, trying to hold him without success – Alex’s body was evanescent, a shadow, nevermore to be held._

_“If our love was enough,” he was slowly fading away before Thomas’s helpless gaze, “why didn’t you stopped me?”_

_“Stop you from doing what?” he cried, “Alexander! Alexander wait –_

“Thomas, wake up love,” Alexander weakly shook him out of his nightmare, and Thomas started and sat on the bed, breathing deeply and shaking; his eyes were still filled with the horrible image of Alex dying.

“Alexander,” he hugged him tight, loosening his grip as soon as Alex moaned out of pain, “I’m sorry, love – does it hurt you if I hold you this way? Please, can we stay like this just some more?”

“Yes,” he whispered, finding a comfortable position to lay without feel any pain – well, most of the pain.

“I love you,” Thomas muttered, his face hidden in Alex’s neck.

“I love you, my little fluffy limpet,” Alexander joked, caressing Thomas’s hair, “what happened?”

“This happened,” Thomas gestured at him, “I can’t protect you – what if something happens and I lose you, and –

“Woah, Thomas, calm down for a minute,” Alexander pressed his lips on Thomas’s and looked him in the eyes, “I’m okay, I’m not dying for a couple of kicks – shit I’m healthy enough not to die at least for another couple of years...m’ joking!” he added at once, after receiving a horror-struck glance from Thomas.

“What if I hadn’t been there tonight?” Thomas shivered at the thought, “Burr could have killed you.”

“He wouldn’t have done it – he’s not so stupid.”

“I don’t know why you’re always underestimating him – he’s dangerous, and he’s not the only one who would like to shoot a bullet at you,” he was sobbing by now, the nightmare still vivid in his mind.

“Shh – Thomas, shh,” Alexander lulled him into his arms for a while, humming a lullaby to calm him.

Thomas focused on Alex’s heartbeat – the most precious sound on Earth – and slowly relaxed, closing his eyes and letting the buzz of Alexander’s chest lull him into sleep again.

Alexander woke up as if someone had stabbed him in the chest. Thomas was sleeping with his head pressed on the probably-broken rib and Alex shifted on the side to free himself, trying not to wake him up.

“Where are you goin’?” Jefferson didn’t even open his eyes, taking Alexander’s arm hostage.

“I’m starving,” Alex’s stomach quickly supported his statement by grumbling in that very moment, “anyway, I think you’re late, Mr President, the sun’s already risen.”

Alexander hadn’t even finished the sentence yet that Thomas was already running in the kitchen, only half dressed.

“Shit, what time is it?”

“Can I just say that I love the sight?” Alexander teased, peeping from the bedroom’s door.

“Alexander!”

“It’s 9 am,” he snorted, “kill-joy,” and went to make breakfast.

Thomas rushed in the bedroom again; when he reemerged, Alexander placed a mugful of coffee into his hands and then combed Thomas’s puffy hair while the latter ate a couple of biscuits – thank god he always baked for a whole army – and drank his coffee. He grabbed his coat and headed to the door.

“Jefferson?”

Thomas turned around, surprised to hear Alexander call him like that, only to find himself pressed against the door by the shorter man. Alexander grabbed a handful of his hair and kissed him with the same passion he put in everything he did – Thomas almost forgot that he was late and deepened the kiss, tasting the bittersweet flavour of Alexander plus coffee. They parted and Alexander rested his forehead on Thomas’s for a moment.

“I didn’t have the chance to tell you – congratulation on your victory,” Alexander grinned broadly, “I can’t believe I’ve just kissed the president of the United States.”

“Yeah, you’re such a lucky guy – you know how many people would kill to be in your place?” Thomas joked, “anyway I’m not President yet.”

“You’ll be in a couple of weeks.”

“I’ll be late.”

“All right, I’ll let you go if you promise to play for me tonight.”

“I don’t have my violin here.”

“Then stop at your place and fetch it before coming home,” he purred, “please?”

“Okay, okay, you win,” Thomas gave him another quick kiss and opened the door, “see you tonight, love.”

“I love you.”

* * *

The weather was perfect in Washington DC the day when Thomas walked into the crowded Capitol’s Senate Chamber, his step steady and his face relaxed, offering smiles to everyone. Alexander, however, knew best – Thomas’s natural smile was a wide grin that lightened all his face at once, while the one he’d put on today was the mask he used to protect himself from the outside world every time he was extremely nervous; it was the same smile he’d given Alexander every time they’d met before really knowing each other.

“Every difference of opinion is not a difference of principle. We have called by different names brethren of the same principle. We are all republicans: we are all federalists,” Thomas’s eyes glanced towards Hamilton for a millisecond, “If there be any among us who would wish to dissolve this Union, or to change its republican form, let them stand undisturbed as monuments of the safety with which error of opinion may be tolerated, where reason is left free to combat it.”

Alexander felt a hand squeezing his shoulder, and turned to look at James Madison, who swiped the mist from his eyes with his handkerchief and smiled friendly at him. Alexander returned the smile and moved his gaze back to Thomas, who was now placing his left hand on the Bible and raising the other one to take his oath.

“I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States,” Thomas smiled at the cheering crowd and straightened his rust-coloured plain coat, then shook John Marshall’s hand and walked towards Madison, who almost hugged him out of enthusiasm.

“Mr President,” Hamilton addressed him with his usual daring face, “nice speech – let’s see how long it will last, though.”

“Mr Hamilton,” Thomas’s face was hostile as ever, “with you out of the picture, it won’t be a problem to have a proper government.”

“Is that so? Well, we’ll talk about it later at ho –

“Thomas, why don’t we go celebrate?” Madison abruptly interrupted Alexander before he spilled out their secrets to anyone who was listening, “Mr Hamilton, good day.”

Alexander cast a thankful glance at Madison for saving him and, regretting the fact that he was not invited to join the celebrations – did he really have to fall in love with his arch-enemy? – turned to talk with Mr Marshall.

Among the merry crowd of people who chatted and tried to take a better look at the new President or to steal a handshake from him, there was only one person who was neither smiling nor trying to move closer to Jefferson. Leaning on the wall, in the corner from where he’d been watching the inauguration, Burr was now morosely scanning the room; his arms crossed on his chest and a threatening look on his sullen face. He didn’t follow Jefferson and Madison to join the celebrations – there was nothing to celebrate for him – but stayed in the room, focusing his gaze and thoughts on the man who’d ruined his career and was now happily blabbering with everyone as if nothing had happened between him and Burr in the past months. That arrogant, immigrant, orphan, bastard, whoreson who’d endorsed his enemy only to prevent him from winning. Burr’s jaw tensed and he closed his eyes with a sole thought on his mind – he would take his revenge on Alexander Hamilton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Letter from Alexander Hamilton to James Bayard: https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-25-02-0169  
> Thomas Jefferson's inaugural address: https://millercenter.org/the-presidency/presidential-speeches/march-4-1801-first-inaugural-address
> 
> *I love y'all as always, thank you so much for your support ♡♡*


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second to last chapter! I can't believe we almost made it.

_November 19, 1802_

_Dear Alexander, last week I received a letter from the President, who asked me to join you in Virginia on Thanksgiving. I have to say that I was very surprised – I’ve read in the paper that he refuses to publicly celebrate it, so I thought that he wouldn’t do it privately. Anyway, I accepted his invitation; I’ll be there on Wednesday with the children, they’re all happy to see you after all these years, and I have to say that I’m glad too. I’m sorry it took so long for me to completely forgive you, but now I can finally assure you that my affection for you hasn’t changed and I’ll forever cherish the moments we spent together. You have my forgiveness and, if you want me, I’d love to be part of your life again – even though the role isn’t what I expected to be. I’ll see you soon. Yours, Eliza._

Alexander almost cried out of joy when he finished reading the letter and ran into the library to literally jump on Thomas, who was reading a report on foreign affairs – it seemed that Napoleon wanted to sell some lands, he couldn’t let the opportunity slide.

“Thomas!” they almost fell off the chair, “thank you, thank you –

“You’re welcome darlin’ but you should tell me why first,” Thomas chucked, positively surprised by the display of affection.

“You wrote to Eliza,” Alexander’s eyes were still shiny with tears, “I haven’t seen my family for almost five years and now they’re coming here!”

“Anything for you, love – I know how much you miss them on Thanksgiving and Christmas and, well, since we’re not busy –

“Cause you’re atheist,” Hamilton interrupted to mock him.

“Cause it’s stupid to mix presidential affairs with the Church,” Thomas corrected him with a scowl, “we could spend some time with them.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Alexander kissed him, “I didn’t think she would say yes, I’m so fucking happy right now I can almost forgive you for being atheist.”

Thomas snorted and ignored him – since he’d stated that he wouldn’t observe Thanksgiving, the Federalists hadn’t stopped attacking him on the press. He didn’t want to justify his choices to them and, even if he did, they wouldn’t listen, so he’d decided not to voice his thoughts on the matter. Obviously, Alexander didn’t agree with his choice, and was constantly teasing him – he wanted Thomas to formally explain himself about the division between Church and State, he wanted Thomas to defend himself from the press attacks. But Thomas didn’t care about rumours, he didn’t care about the Federalists – he was happy with his life and, right now, he felt like if didn’t have a problem in the world.

Alexander seemed to suddenly notice that he was being actively ignored and kissed him again to gain his attentions back. Thomas muttered something but kissed him back, pushing his report aside and gently lifting Alexander so that he was sitting on the desk.

“Gentlemen, do you ever get tired of it?” Madison’s chuckle came from the study’s door, and Thomas and Alex immediately drew apart.

“James, come on in.”

Thomas smiled at his friend, completely at ease, while Alexander simply nodded, blushing significantly, for the amusement of both Thomas and James, who started to fool around.

“I’m sorry Jamie, you know what influence I have on people, Alexander simply can’t stay away from me,” Thomas cracked a smile to his boyfriend, who started to protest but was cut short by Madison.

“I know man, but every time I step in a room I catch you two making out – how haven’t others discovered it yet?”

“You shitheads,” Alexander muttered under his breath and went to the library to choose a book where to sink in.

Thomas and James laughed heartily and then got down to work, discussing the report until lunch, when they finally got up and moved to the dining room to have a light meal.

“James, why don’t you and Dolley join us this Thursday?”

“Uh? Are you really celebrating Thanksgiving?”

“I’m not,” Thomas ignored Alexander’s laughter – and his coughs after he choked on his food – and went on, “we’re going to have some guests for lunch, that’s all – we’re not going to pray or else.”

“I’d like to attend the mass that morning actually,” Alexander informed him, “I think Eliza and the kids would also like to go.”

“You can do whatever pleases you the most, love,” Thomas winked, “I’ll be here making all the arrangements for Mrs Hamilton and the children.”

“Mrs Hamilton?” James suddenly asked, “do you mean that –

“Yeah, she knows,” Alexander answered the unasked question, sadly looking at his lap, “the kids don’t though, so be careful with your jokes,” he added, scowling at the two of them.

“Of course – Dolley and I will be here,” James assured Thomas, who was now looking at Alexander with a sweet yet slightly sad look.

“Well, I’d better go,” Madison read the room and decided to give the two lovers a bit of space – he wouldn’t do the same mistake twice, “I’ll see you on Thursday then.”

Alexander and Thomas waved James goodbye and silently headed to the study. Alexander was deep in thoughts and Thomas patiently waited for him to be ready to speak his mind.

“I’m nervous about it,” he finally stated.

“I can see it,” Thomas sat on the bed and opened his arms to welcome Alexander, who gladly accepted his invitation.

The two on them shifted into a more comforting laying position and Alexander sighed contently on Thomas’s chest before talking again.

“I don’t feel like I deserve her forgiveness, Thomas,” he explained, “I cheated on her and I lied, and now she’s alone because of me – I send her money, of course, but –

“Alexander, you shouldn’t feel guilty of your own feelings. Yes, you made some mistakes, but who doesn’t? You’ve been honest at the end and you deserve forgiveness. Who you are is not your fault, and she’s a wonderful woman to understand and accept it.”

“She really is,” he sighed and started doodling on Thomas’s skin with his fingertips, pensive once more.

“What is it?”

“What if my children hate me?”

“They don’t.”

“How do you know it?”

“If they are your and Eliza’s children, then they have to be the sweetest and most understanding people on this planet.”

A short moment of silence followed, Alexander considered Thomas’s words.

“Thank you, Thomas.”

“What for?”

“It was my love for you that made me be honest with Eliza in the end,” Alexander looked up at him with his wide blue eyes and Thomas fell in love all over again, “and your love makes me stronger and you make me feel safe and alive – despite everything we’ve gone through, our love made me a better person.”

“I would say t’was the same for me, love,” Thomas kissed him on the forehead and gently brushed his long hair with his fingers for a while, “I won’t risk losing you again, Alexander.”

“Mh-mh,” Alexander seemed distracted.

“What?”

“Well, we’re already lying on your comfy bed so –

“Oh my god, Madison was right,” Thomas laughed at his boyfriend’s audacity.

“Shut up,” Alexander shushed him, closing the bed curtains with a confident smirk.

* * *

Alexander was walking back and forth from Monticello’s main door to the end of the cobblestone path. Every time he reached the end, he would look hopefully at the main street, trying to spot a carriage coming from afar; in the end, he would sigh and walk back to the door, and so on. Thomas cast a glance at him through the window, while baking some fresh bread and thinking about the following day’s lunch, and smiled at his boyfriend’s impatience - he was always so spontaneous, it was impossible not to be attracted by him.

“They’re here!” Thomas eventually heard Alexander’s happy voice calling from outside.

Alexander started to cheerfully wave his arms towards the incoming carriage, a grin spreading across his face, and he called for Thomas to come and greet the guests. Thomas put his apron away and washed his hands before heading to the door.

“Alexander!” Eliza’s voice betrayed her happiness in being there, a perfect match for Alexander’s feelings.

“My dear Betzy,” Alexander helped her out of the carriage and hugged her tight for some seconds, closing his eyes and smelling her perfume, “how was the journey?”

“It was perfect, I really enjoyed the view,” Eliza took Alexander’s arm and they started walking towards the house, “the children are coming in a couple of hours, they wanted to stop to the city, Philip and Angie are looking after them.”

“I can’t wait to see them,” Alexander held the door open for her and took her coat, the smile still wide on his face, “come, Betzy, I’ll make some tea.”

They walked into the tea room and sat, Alexander looking fondly at Eliza while she admired the French furniture and the elegant decorations of the room – she was used to richness of course, she was a Schuyler after all, but Monticello was really amazing. A hot teapot was already waiting for them in the centre of the table – Thomas wasn’t joking when he’d said he’d considered everything.

“Alex, hon, why is there a marble bust of you in the entrance?”

“Thomas says it represents our previous hostility in the Cabinet,” Alexander chuckled, “but he had it made in 1794, right after we broke up – I bet he just missed me too much.”

They were still laughing when Thomas finally joined them.

“Mrs Hamilton,” Thomas stood on the doorstep with a shy smile on his face and bowed lightly at her.

Eliza didn’t answer, but her face cooled at once. She stood up and walked straight to Thomas, her steps echoing in the perfect silence of the room and – _slap_!

“This is for lying to me and coming to my own house to make fun of our marriage.”

“Eliza, don’t –

Alexander began to speak, but Thomas gestured him not to, his eyes fixed on Eliza’s.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have,” he apologized, his voice was a little more than a whisper – Alexander’s heart almost broke when he heard Thomas’s hurt tone, he wanted to go there and hug him.

There was another long pause in which they both held their breath, completely still, waiting for Elizabeth to answer.

“I know,” she wiped a tear away before taking Thomas’s hand, smiling at him at last, “thank you for taking care of Alexander.”

“I will always do my best.”

“You’d better,” she joked.

“Hey, you two – I’m right here, you know that?” Alexander stepped in and Thomas chucked at the other man’s frowning expression.

“Relax, love,” he teased, stretching an arm around Alex’s shoulders and smacking a kiss on his forehead.

For a moment, Eliza’s gaze grew very surprised – she’d never seen them acting like that before – but it quickly changed into an amused one. She smiled fondly and went back to her tea, listening to the couple bickering about the accommodations for the following days.

After some time, they finally heard the noise Alexander was missing so much – his kids were chatting and laughing on their way to Monticello, he could recognize every single voice. He instantly jumped out of his seat and rushed to the main door, swinging it open with trembling hands. For a moment, the little group of Hamiltons fell silent and they all stared at the man on the doorstep.

“Daddy!” James was the first to break from the group, running towards him with his arms open – he’d always been a hug person.

Right after James, John and five-year-old William ran into his embrace, while Alexander, Philip and Angelica patiently waited their turn to greet their father.

“Oh my god, you’re all so tall,” he laughed, overwhelmed by different emotions at once, “look at you, William, last time I saw you you were so tiny I could have hold you in a hand.”

After receiving a hundreds hugs and a very sticky kiss from William, Alexander stood up again to greet his elder children – Alex and Angelica hugged him, while Philip smiled awkwardly.

“Dad, I’ve missed you so much,” Angelica whispered to his ear, making him cry again, “I couldn’t wait for this moment to come,” she added in her silky voice – god she was a woman by now, as beautiful, sweet and sunny as Eliza.

“Philip,” Alexander called him, hesitantly offering his hand.

“Pops,” he took his hand and smiled, but didn’t hug him, “you seem happy.”

“I am now, son,” Alexander said carefully, “I’ve missed all of you so much.”

“You never visited,” Philip’s voice gave away his bitterness, and Angelica shoot him a scolding look.

“I – You’re right, I’m sorry,” Alexander’s heart ached at Philip’s words, “I really wanted to, but it’s complicated. Can you forgive me?”

Philip shrugged and looked askance for a moment, his beautiful eyes were clear and honest as Alexander’s and they were now showing so many feelings – hope, fear, doubt, love, anger and sadness. But in the end he slowly nodded; Alexander stepped closer and hugged his son, his shoulders shaking with sobs. Philip tried not to – he’d promised himself he wouldn’t cry anymore because of his father – but when Angelica joined the hug, followed suit by James, Alex and John, the warmth he felt within was simply too much not to cry. Little William, looking confusingly at his siblings, seemed to decide he didn’t want to be left out and started to whine, running towards his mum as soon as she appeared on the doorstep.

“Are they always like this?” Thomas joked, looking at Alexander’s happy face surrounded by all his kids.

“Well, they’re all Hamiltons, what did you expect?” Eliza laughed with him, holding little William in her arms.

Thomas chuckled at the comment, but nonchalantly swiped a tear away as soon as Eliza turned her back to him. He then excused himself and went back to the kitchen to check on the bread, leaving them alone – they needed some family time and he didn’t want to intrude.

The next hours passed very quickly, Thomas easily won Philip and Angelica’s affection by showing them the library, while Alex and James disappeared into the stables only to come back before dinner; John was more interested in exploring the gardens – Thomas taught him how to plant some flower bulbs and then showed him his mockingbirds that flew free around the greenhouse. In the meantime, Alexander spent some time with Eliza and William, getting to know the son he’d only seen once before. They had macaroni and cheese, peas puree and pork for dinner, and – to Alexander’s immense pleasure – ice-cream for dessert. The evening passed quite uneventful, with Alexander and Angelica playing piano together and Philip humming next to them, Eliza reading _Gulliver’s Travels_ to the others and William peacefully asleep into Thomas’s arms.

When the clock struck ten, Eliza called it a night and no one complained – they were all dead tired after the journey, even if they didn’t want the day to end so soon. Thomas showed everyone to their rooms and finally closed the door to his own’s, were Alexander was already half-asleep.

“Do you like my family?” he asked with his adorable sleepy voice.

“They’re amazing, love,” Thomas smiled and sat on the bed next to him, stripping from his clothes.

“You’re amazing too, you know that right?”

“You’re always sweeter when you’re sleepy,” Thomas kissed him softly, “anyway, of course I know I’m amazing.”

“You beautiful idiot.”

“Are you happy?”

“You can’t imagine,” he smiled as Thomas slipped under the covers next to him, “jeez, get your ice-cold hands off me!”

“Too late,” Thomas warmed his hands on Alexander’s skin, making him shiver.

“Are you coming to mass tomorrow?”

“Don’t even try,” Thomas rolled his eyes, “I’ve organized this lunch only to make you happy – stop trying to make me celebrate Thanksgiving.”

“Well, I’m thankful for what you did for me,” Alexander teased, “and I’m so thankful to have you in my life.”

“Cheesy.”

“Asshole.”

* * *

Thomas and Alexander returned to Washington DC more relaxed than ever. They’d spent their holidays by mainly working, but also chilling, riding and gardening together, cooking almost every recipe from Thomas’s personal cookbook, reading and cuddling by the fire every night. Thanksgiving had been one of the best they’d ever had – even if Thomas was reluctant to admit it – and they’d resolved to have a whole-family reunion every year. Alexander had promised Philip to visit him at King’s College before the summer and to go to Albany together as soon as Philip’s spring break started.

As soon as they stepped into the White House, Thomas was dragged away by Madison to join several Cabinet meetings – it seemed that Napoleon wasn’t joking about selling the land after all. Alexander spent the following weeks working – despite being less powerful in politics, his law firm was going great – and helping Thomas when he needed some advice. Eventually, they fell into their every-day routine and, except for some not-so-rare occasions when Thomas had to travel for work, or those when Alexander went to Albany to visit his family, they always ended up their days cuddling in bed and telling each other funny stories about their day. Nothing could ruin the balance they had finally achieved, after gaining back everything they had lost in their lives. Madison was a frequent guest and Thomas was now extremely glad that James knew about his relationship with Alex, so that they had almost never to hide it when they were at home. Eliza also visited frequently, sometimes she would bring the kids with her; on those occasions, Alexander would cancel every work-relating appointments to stay with them.

“You’ve changed,” Eliza had noticed on one of her visits, “years ago it would have been impossible to drag you away from work to spend the day with us.”

“Five years away from my family have taught me to change my priorities,” he’d shrugged and had smiled at her, “I’ve made many mistakes and I thought I'd lost everything I cared for, but I was blessed with a second chance and I’m not going to ruin things this time.”

“Only a fool doesn’t learn from his mistakes.”

“You’re right Betzy.” Alexander had sighed, “I thought Philip would have never forgive me.”

“You were his hero.”

“I know.”

“You were everybody’s hero,” Eliza had taken his hand, a gentle smile on her face, “sometimes it’s hard to remember that behind a hero there’s only a man.”

“I forget it too sometimes.”

“I know. You don’t have to be too hard on you – you did your best, hon.”

“Thanks Betzy.”

* * *

The year 1803 had just ended and Thomas was already talking about his retirement, dreaming about their future life together in Virginia, but Alexander knew Thomas was going to be elected for a second term. They still had to wait a bit before being finally free to live as they liked. The elections this time wouldn't be problem – Alexander didn’t really like the thought of having Clinton as vice president but, well, it was always better than Burr.

“I’ve heard that Aaron Burr is running in Clinton’s place to be governor of New York,” Thomas informed Alexander one morning, while dressing.

Alexander, who still hadn’t gathered the courage to get up, groaned softly in his pillow to express his disapproval.

“He won’t even try to run for president this time,” Thomas buttoned his waistcoat in front of the mirror, “but if he fails in New York, his political career will be over.”

“What are we waiting for?” Alexander’s head popped out of the blankets and smiled at Thomas through the mirror, “leave it to me, sweetheart.”

“I love you,” Thomas stopped to kiss him before heading to the door, “just don’t exaggerate please.”

“When have I ever exaggerated something?”

“Just - please.”

“All right, don’t worry, I’ll behave.”

“Bye love.”

As soon as the bedroom door closed, Alexander got up and sat at the desk – he already knew what to write, and Burr wasn’t going to like it a bit. He drew out his favourite quill, the one Thomas had given him their first Christmas together, and started to write.

After less than two months, Burr’s career was unofficially over. Alexander knew that almost no Federalist wanted him as governor of New York; he hadn’t had to do much really, cause they were already decided on another Democratic-Republican candidate, Mr Lewis, and none of them was really considering Burr as an option. However, even if someone had actually considered voting for him before, Alexander made sure that they didn't anymore. His certainty was confirmed on April, when Lewis became governor and Burr’s career simply faded away. One less thing to worry about.

It was a beautiful day of June when the letter finally arrived. The previous day had been a Sunday, Thomas and Alex had gone riding and had a picnic along the Potomac; they’d returned home on their last leg, but extremely happy about their field trip. That Monday morning, despite being tired for the previous day's hiking, Thomas woke up at dawn, as usual, and was writing his letters at the desk next to their bed before starting another busy week of work; he loved sitting at that desk in the morning, because he could keep an eye on Alexander and go kiss him as soon as he woke up. Except that, on that very morning, he decided to wake him up by playing his favourite song at the violin – he knew Alexander loved to listen to him playing and so he stood in front of their bed and slowly started gliding the bow on the strings, playing Pachelbel’s Canon in D major. Thomas smiled when he saw his boyfriend blinking confusedly for a moment and then, without moving from under the covers, closing his eyes again, lost into his music bliss. After a minute, he slowly sat on the bed to watch Thomas’s performance – Alex loved too much the sight of Thomas playing his violin to miss the possibility to take a good look at him. When the song ended, Alex’s eyes were full of tears and he stretched his arms towards Thomas, as if to silently ask for a hug; Thomas put the violin aside and climbed on the bed to kiss him good morning. They’d stood there for some minutes, without talking – they already knew what the other was thinking, and the moment was so perfect they didn’t want to ruin it with words. In the end, they heard a knock at the door – Madison usually waited on the front door for Thomas to go to work, but, when the President was late, James would go and drag him away from Alexander’s embrace, if necessary. Thomas gave him a last kiss before going away, and Alexander returned to sleep, mixing the perfect memory of that morning to his dreams.

But the moment to wake up eventually had to come. The moment to stop living in a dream and return to the real world couldn’t be ignored anymore. That day, Alexander went to his apartment to work and there, laying on the floor right behind the front door, a letter was waiting for him. Soon or later, something would destroy everything he’d worked so hard to gain back. And that something had finally come to haunt him, threatening him with a simple sentence: _I have the honour to be your obedient servant, A. Burr._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so, first of all (this is hilarious) I've discovered that Thomas Jefferson was considered "the Turkey Day Grinch" because he refused to celebrate Thanksgiving while being President. He clearly wanted to keep State and Church divided, but the Federalists believed him to be Satan or something like that. If you're interested, here's the link:  
> https://www.history.com/news/thomas-jeffersons-complicated-relationship-with-thanksgiving
> 
> Secondly, I think y'all already know the song, but this is the link to Canon in D major: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWYuV4SdwNc
> 
> Also, as if Jefferson didn't have enough hobbies, he also purchased several mockingbirds. His favourite one, Dick, was allowed to fly around the room while Thomas was studying or working (like, in the White House): https://www.monticello.org/site/research-and-collections/mockingbirds
> 
> Okay so that's all for this week, I hope I'll be able to post the last chapter next weekend. I'm so sad it's already over - I'll have to think about some other story asap. In the meantime, if you're on Wattpat don't hesitate to post a message on my profile (@HardRockLikeLancelot)! And don't forget to comment and let me know your thoughts on the chapter ;)


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg I can't believe this is the last chapter of the story. When I started writing it I didn't even know what I was doing, but well - it seems like it went quite well!  
> Thank you - every single one of you - with all my heart for your support, you have been my sunshine in the last months.  
> I love you ♡

Summer was Alexander’s favourite season – the weather was sunny and warm, the air was full of bees and butterflies; he and Thomas usually spent most of their free time at Monticello, where they didn’t have to worry about being discovered. That particular summer, Thomas was directing some major changes in the west wing of the house – he’d designed it himself – and so they had to travel back and forth from there to Washington DC. They didn’t mind travelling together though; they would choose a different book every time and read it aloud during the journey, debating their ideas about whatever topic it would raise. Thomas was always amazed by how much they disagreed on – they were at the polar opposites of almost every single argument – the only thing they completely agreed on was that they loved each other, and that was enough to overcome every other quarrel. It was mid-June and they were spending one last night in Monticello before going back to DC; Alexander had gloomily wondered whether that was his last night in that house. He tried not to think to Thomas’s state if he had to return to Monticello alone, after everything he’d gone through already.

“Thomas, are you coming to bed?”

“In a minute, I’m writing a letter to Gilbert,” Thomas answered without looking up from several sheets of paper.

“What are you telling him?” Alexander stood up and hugged him from behind, letting Thomas rest his head on his stomach for a moment.

“Not telling you,” he teased and covered the letter with a book to stop Alex from peeping.

“Come on! Are you talking about me?”

Alexander leaned over to grab the letter, but Thomas swirled on his chair and quickly caught his boyfriend in his arms, trapping him and starting a tiny-kisses attack on his face.

“You bastard, let me see the letter!”

“Never,” Thomas laughed at Alexander’s attempt to free himself and eventually let him go, “all right, but it will cost you.”

“What do you want?” Alexander was still smiling, but his look quickly changed into a very serious one as soon as he heard Thomas’s request.

“You have to tell me why you were crying the other night.”

“Whatever. I’ve changed my mind, you can keep your letter,” Alexander turned to go to bed, trying to hide his guilty face.

“Alex, wait,” Thomas took his hand a gently pulled him back, “you don’t have to tell me right away, but I want you to remember that I’m here. The last time we stopped talking about our problems, we –

“I know,” Alexander gently kissed Thomas’s soft lips and forced a smile on his face, trying to seem calm, “you don’t have to worry, it was nothing important.”

“Okay, I believe you, love.”

“So, can I read the letter now?”

“Of course not,” he chuckled, “but I can assure you that I’m not talking about you. Not that I don’t want to, but my letters could be read by indiscreet eyes – in fact, I’m trying to convince Gilbert to visit, he’d be so happy to know about us.”

“Doesn’t he want to come?”

“I offered him the governorship of Louisiana but he declined, so now I’m trying to make him come visit at least.”

“We should let Hercules talk to him,” Alexander muttered, mostly to himself, “perhaps he’ll be persuaded then.”

“Who?”

“Nothing, I was only thinking about the past,” Alexander chuckled at something only he knew and Thomas returned to his letter with a shrug.

By the time Thomas went to bed, Alexander had already fallen asleep. Thomas slipped under the covers next to him and noticed that his eyes were puffy – he’d been crying again. He hugged his boyfriend and pulled him closer, hiding his face into Alexander’s hair. Thomas was ready to protect him from everything, but what could he do if Alexander refused to talk with him? He fell asleep wondering how could he protect Alexander from himself.

Before June ended, Alex went to stay with his family for a week and spent a couple of days in New York to meet some of his old friends; he hadn’t seen many of them for too long, and – he didn’t really want to think about it, but couldn’t help – who knows if he would ever see them again. He’d sent Nathaniel Pendleton to negotiate with Burr’s second but they hadn’t reached any agreement, and so he’d took advantage of his trip to talk with Mr Hosack, his doctor, as well.

Saying goodbye to his family had been one of the hardest things Alexander had ever done. He’d been overwhelmed by all their past memories together, and had felt guilty for all those years he had wasted by staying away from them – they could have had many more memories together if only he had told Eliza the truth right away. He’d said farewell to each one of his children with his heart heavy and a sad smile on his face.

“William, remember to behave and to always do whatever mum tells you to, understood?” he’d hugged the youngest Hamilton, now an almost-seven-year-old tornado, “and Angie, never stop practicing your scales, you’re an amazing pianist, sweetheart.”

“I’ll play our song every day,” Angelica had promised, hugging him tight and swiping away a tear – she’d always hated goodbyes, “it’ll be our family’s lullaby.”

“Alex and James, don’t forget to say your prayers before going to bed, and remember to always help your mama, all right?” he’d held the two brothers into his embrace for a moment before turning to the other sibling, “John you’ll have to be a good example to them, I’ll send you some other history books and you can read them to your siblings after supper, how does it sounds?”

“It sounds perfect, thanks dad!”

“Philip,” Alexander had looked his beloved son in the eyes – he’d started working as a lawyer and had recently been courting a young woman from the city, “I really hope to meet your Anne next time I come.”

“Pops, she’s not _my_ Anne,” Philip had blushed, “but I’ll introduce her to all of you next time you come.”

“I can’t wait to be grandfather,” Alexander almost broke down at the thought of never meeting Philip’s children – he’d always wanted to be part of a big family…

“Woah, ok – just slow down pa.”

Alexander had looked back at all the smiling faces waving him goodbye from the doorstep and had almost burst into tears at the thought of never seeing them again. Eliza had followed him to his carriage, looking askance at his sad face.

“Alexander, what is it?”

“What is what?”

“Don’t you dare use your doe eyes with me – I know something is upsetting you, hon.”

“You’re right,” Alexander had sighed deeply and had taken her hands, weighting his every word, “I don’t know exactly how it happened, but I’ve found myself on a path from which I can’t go back, I can’t change my direction or try to make things better – I’m completely helpless.”

“My dearest,” Eliza’s face had betrayed her worry, but she’d offered him her usual kind smile and reassuring words, “you’ve always found a way to change your life for the better, there’s nothing that can stop you from choosing your own fate.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to write my way out this time.”

“Alexander, are you –

“I have to leave,” he’d kissed her on the cheek and had hold her tight for a moment, “I’ll always love you, Eliza – best of wives and best of women.”

“Goodbye Alexander,” a tear had escaped her eye, she seemed always to understand what was going on in his mind, even when he didn’t say anything at all, “remember you can do anything, hon. And if it seems too much, just try and stay alive – that would be enough.”

“Bye, Betzy.”

* * *

That last week together, Thomas had had a lot of meetings to host, and had been always in a hurry; fortunately, work had kept him so busy that he hadn’t commented on Alexander’s changing mood – he would switch from happy to pensive, to cheerful, to sad again; he didn’t sleep much and he almost always cried at night, looking at Thomas and thinking about their lost future life together.

The night before the duel they had a nice dinner together – Alexander had asked Thomas to take the night off and Thomas had probably perceived his desperation because he’d left a report half-read on his desk and had followed him to the kitchen.

“Do you want me to cook something?”

“Yes, I love your cooking – you can make macaroni and cheese, I swear I won’t complain.”

“Wow – are we in a good mood tonight?” Thomas tried to steal a kiss from Alexander, gently pushing him towards the wall and placing a hand next to his head to trap him.

“Don’t get too confident, Jefferson,” Alexander teased, blinking innocently, “at least take me out for dinner first.”

Thomas chuckled and let him go, grabbing an apron instead, and heading to the stove.

“As you wish,” he winked and started to cook, humming some tune under his breath.

Alexander just stayed there, looking at him cooking and trying to ignore the ache in his heart – quickly wiping a lonely tear that had escaped his eye.

Too few hours later, Alexander gently freed himself from Thomas’s embrace, trying not to wake him up. The air in the room seemed to be ice cold once he moved away from Thomas’s warm body. Alexander quickly dressed and sat at the desk to write his last farewell to the love of his life; he lit a candle and started to write, the quill scrapping softly on the paper and no other sound filling the deafening silence of the room.

“Alexander, come back to sleep,” Thomas sleepy voice called him and Alex almost jumped out of surprise, but Thomas didn’t notice – he was used to wake up and find his boyfriend at the desk, writing.

“Yes, sorry – I just need to write something down,” Alexander smiled weakly, “I’ll be there in a minute, did the candle light wake you up?”

“No, it’s just this dream I keep having,” Thomas looked drowsily at Alex from the bed, “every time I have this nightmare, I try to wake up before it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?”

Thomas lazily rubbed his eyes, without answering; after a few moment, he offered a hand to Alexander, gesturing him to sit on the bed for a moment. Alexander was afraid he wouldn’t be able to leave if he accepted it; he hesitated a moment and eventually stepped next to their bed and took Thomas’s hand.

“Do you remember the night I almost shot Burr?”

“Yeah – you wouldn’t have done any damage, honestly.”

“I had a bad feeling, as if I wouldn't ever be able to protect you... mostly from yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Alexander, I know I love you,” Thomas said after a minute, his voice was still a bit sleepy, “I’m sure of my feelings as much as I’m sure the sun will rise in the morning – nothing will ever change what I feel for you.”

“I know Thomas, we’ll talk about it tomor –

“But if you don’t want to stay anymore, I won’t stop you.”

“Wait – what are you talking about?”

“I hear you cry at night,” Thomas closed his eyes – it seemed almost like a strange dream, he was saying out loud every thought that had passed through his mind in the last month, “and you don’t talk to me anymore. That’s why now _I_ am talking. And I want you to know that your happiness is more important than mine.”

“Stop this nonsense, Thomas, I need you to remember this: I love you more than anything else,” Alexander ignored the tears that were flooding out of his eyes and went on, trying to keep a steady voice, “if I ever leave, you'll have to always keep in mind that I probably had no other choice.”

“You love me more than anything else?”

“Yes.”

“You promise?”

Alexander hesitated a moment. Did he love Thomas more than his legacy? More than his honour? Well, he could lie – after all, he only had some more hours left with Thomas, a little lie wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“I promise.” Alexander forced himself to say – why did it hurt so much though?

“Don’t go then,” Thomas’s voice was almost a whisper, he seemed to be half-asleep.

“I’m here, Thomas,” Alexander was thankful Thomas’s eyes were closed, or he’d been able to read his lies by simply looking at his guilty blue eyes.

Thomas smiled a sleepy smile and gave a weak squeeze at Alexander’s hand, his chest raising and lowering rhythmically and his body relaxing more every moment.

“My Alexander...” he murmured, sliding into a more peaceful sleep.

Alexander breathed deeply a couple of times, inhaling Thomas’s scent and trying to impress that sweet memory in his mind. Then he stood up and went to the desk again, grabbing some other paper and his quill and writing down what he needed to with a determined look on his face. In a couple of hours everything would be over.

* * *

Aaron Burr looked up at the stars that were shining bright over Washington DC. The sky was dark, but the sun would raise in a couple of hours; he smiled – that day’s dawn would be a new beginning for him. He’d come to the capital to finally get his revenge and free the world from that useless scum called Alexander Hamilton. He and William Van Ness walked together to Bladensburg, where the duel would take place – Burr had proposed Weehawken, but Hamilton had written back that he couldn’t move from DC.

“Do you want me to try and negotiate again with Pendleton?” Van Ness asked nervously.

“Not really, just pretend to listen and refuse whatever offer he proposes.”

“What if Hamilton apologises?”

“It’s too late for an apology – I want that bastard dead by the end of the day.”

“Do you think he’ll come?”

“He will; he would never risk to lose his honour – you know what he did when we accused him of fraud; he’d rather die than face public dishonour.”

William stood silent for a minute, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that they were going to kill the former Secretary of Treasure. He’d always admired Hamilton as a politician, but he agreed with Burr that a duel was unavoidable after what Hamilton had done to him. They disagreed on the outcome though – most disputes ended without even shooting, there was no need to really hurt someone.

“Are you sure that this duel would save you from political decline?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, many people love Hamilton and he doesn’t really hold any power in the Government anymore so –

“Do I have to search for someone else to be my second?”

“No, Aaron listen, I’m just trying to prevent you from doing something that would end your career and your life as an honourable man.”

“That will be Hamilton’s fate, not mine. Don’t worry William. I’ll be fine.”

Van Ness didn’t answer and they slowly walked to the duelling ground where Hamilton would take his last breath. And then they waited.

* * *

Thomas woke up at dawn – as usual – and instinctively stretched his arm to hug Alexander, but his fingers only grabbed the cold bed sheets and he opened his eyes to look at the empty spot next to him. Thomas blinked a couple of time to clear his mind from all the dreams of the previous night – he’d had the usual nightmare and then another one where he’d talked with Alexander, but he couldn’t remember what was being discussed. He sat on the bed and stretched his back, looking at the desk as if he was expecting to find Alexander asleep with his face on the books – that wouldn’t have been the first time. But he wasn’t there; there were only a lot of crumpled sheets of paper and letters scattered all around. Thomas washed and dressed up for work – it was a Wednesday and he had to meet with Madison to work on the new-approved change of the 12th amendment. Once dressed, he picked the crumpled papers from the floor and placed them on Alexander’s desk – that man had to learn to tidy up after his mess.

In that moment, a paper caught his attention – the handwriting was familiar, but the letter seemed to have been written in a moment of rage, since the letters were scribbled in an angry way. Thomas looked at the signature and his blood froze. Five words echoed in his mind as he rushed to the door: _July, 11th; duel; Aaron Burr._

* * *

Burr looked eagerly at the red sun slowly rising from the horizon, while Van Ness checked the pistols again; both were waiting for Hamilton to arrive and wanted this affair to be over as soon as possible. Burr was starting to grow impatient, they’d been waiting for half an hour, but the moment had almost come. His anxiety faded away, only to be replaced by utter hate, as he saw two figures approaching them at last. He sneered as the two shadows came closer, turning their back to the rising sun. The grass's dew sparked all around as the first rays of sun shone on Bladensburg; the silence was almost absolute – only the lonely twitting of a bird dared to break the stillness of the morning. However, after some interminable minutes, the blackbird stopped his singing and flew away as a gunshot violently echoed in the clearing.

* * *

Thomas ran down the stairs, trying not to panic – he would check the house first, maybe Alexander had refused to duel and he was freaking out for nothing at all. A small voice in his mind reminded him that Alexander would never risk losing his honour by declining a duel – he tried to ignore the thought but, once he arrived in the library and found it empty, he had to stop and curl into a ball, folding his legs to his chest while a high whistle rang into his ears. The memories of his dream hit him all of a sudden.

_“I need you to remember this: I love you more than anything else. If I ever leave, you'll have to always keep in mind that I probably had no other choice.”_

_“You love me more than anything else?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“You promise?”_

_“I promise.”_

Thomas sobbed, trying to breathe and calm down, but his hands were shaking and he couldn’t stop the tears that were streaming down his face, heavily dropping on the sleeve of his shirt. He felt as if something was pressing on his chest, preventing him from breathing properly – it was the way he’d lived from the moment Martha had died, many years ago, until he’d met Alexander. He couldn’t believe it was happening again.

“You promised,” he whispered breathless among the sobs.

* * *

A thin coil of smoke came from the gun barrel – Burr looked at the man in front of him who had raised his pistol at the sky to shoot. After some moments, Nathaniel Pendleton lowered the gun and continued reading the letter he was holding in his other hand.

“ _I thereby throw away my shot. I have no interest in hurting anyone – even less so to wound a former friend, someone who’s fought with me for our Nation’s liberty and that has sadly grown to be an enemy of mine. Burr, I won’t apologize for what I’ve done to you, because I believed it was the best thing to do, but I won’t duel either. You can do whatever you want with this letter and with my honour. In these years I've succeeded in creating something that will last and, even if I’ll be forgotten by my country – pardon my honesty, but I strongly doubt it – I’ll be remembered by my family and loved ones. I’ve already lost everything I had twice and I won’t do the same mistake again – love is more important than anything else. I hope you’ll understand it one day, and that your life will be filled by love once more. Yours, A. Ham._ ”

Once he’d finished reading, Mr Pendleton handed the letter to Burr and turned to join his friend, Dr Hosack; they left without another word, leaving the two other men speechless. Van Ness put the pistols away and looked at Burr, waiting for his reaction – he was looking at the letter in his hand with a blank stare.

“It’s over Aaron, let’s go home.”

“I – I thought he would come.”

“Maybe it’s time for you to stop looking at the things you’ve lost and start appreciating what you have.”

“What do I have? I’m alone and my career is over.”

“You’re a wonderful lawyer and today you’ve been spared from killing an innocent man and being pointed at as a criminal.”

Burr looked at William for a moment and then suddenly broke down into pieces. The only reason to live he'd clung to in the last four years had been his will of revenge – he suddenly felt empty and tired of everything. He fell to the ground and sobbed away all the emotions that were suffocating him – envy, hate, all his insecurities and the loneliness that had overwhelmed him in the past years. Then, something warm enveloped him – William was next to him, holding him into his arms and gently patting his back.

“You’re not alone, Aaron, you’ve got friends. And we’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you, William.”

“Let’s go home.”

* * *

“Holy crap!”

Thomas’s sobs were exceeded by a loud crash, coming from the kitchen. Thomas’s head snapped at the sound of the voice that had followed the noise and he immediately got up, almost running towards the kitchen.

“Shit, stupid pan – oh no, the eggs!”

Thomas opened the door to find a flour-covered Alexander, who was trying to save a pan of completely burnt scrambled eggs, while another pan was now lying on the floor upside down, its whole content spilled on the floor tiles and over an unlucky chair.

“Thomas! Thank god you’re here – this kitchen is trying to kill me!” Alexander turned his face to him with a dramatic gesture, “help me?”

“I thought you were gone,” Thomas’s voice came out more like a croak than his usual low voice, but he didn’t care, “I’ve found Burr’s letter on your desk.”

“Oh – fuck,” Alexander completely forgot about the pan and crossed the room to move closer to Thomas, “I’m sorry, I was going to get rid of everything, but then I thought I’d like to surprise you by making breakfast and I forgot to put it away.”

“I – I thought…” Thomas started to sob again, this time out of relief, and hesitantly touched Alexander; he was still afraid it was all a dream, but no, Alexander was real and was right in front of him, “you didn’t leave me.”

“I didn’t,” Alexander wiped Thomas’s tears away and kissed him, “I will never leave you, Thomas – did you hear me? Nothing and no one will ever take me away from you, I swear.”

“I love you, Alexander.”

“I love you.”

In the end, they had to throw the pan away and spent half of the morning cleaning Alexander’s mess in the kitchen before having a proper breakfast – but they didn’t care a bit. They were safe, happy and, most importantly, they were together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo did you really believe that I would kill Alex?! Actually, I wanted to. But this seemed to be a better idea, what do you think?  
> Anyway, see you in the next story or on Wattpad, thanks again for reading my story ♡ *hugs*


End file.
